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zozo-01 · 2 days

Text

"my daddy gone for the weekend, so saturday baby we can get to freakin'."

It's here! After four-ish months, the smut is done! It took everything from me but I'm super proud of how this turned out! A huge shoutout to @dominimoonbeam for giving my the original idea, and my sincerest gratitude to everyone whom I lamented to, especially @gingerbreadmonsters, @lovelylonerliterature and @cashandprizes for making sure I wasn't making a fool of myself!

CW: University AU, David is a Business Major, Darlin' is a Poli Sci Major, No Angel and Sam AU, Unresolved Sexual Tension, leading to, Resolved Sexual Tension, they are stupid and in love, Top/Bottom Roles, First Time, Loss of Virginity, its david he's the virgin, Oral Sex, Riding, Grinding, david is a praise whore, they are horny young adults, Gender-Neutral Darlin', Jealousy, Angst and Fluff and Smut, David Shaw is Bad at Feelings, so is darlin', author is incapable of not being emotional, Minors Do Not Interact!!!!

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click here for the playlist made by @floofdeloop!!!

There wasn't a moment that went by where he didn't think of Darlin' promise. Even if he tried, the piercing on his tongue was a physical reminder that he couldn't get rid of.

Well, he technically could. Didn't mean he wanted to.

It was odd having a piercing at first, especially in such a weird place. He had to stop himself from playing with the piercing and pulling it out. While he would love to have Darlin' in his lap again to re-pierce his tongue, the pain was absolutely not worth it.

The reactions he got once he showed it off, on the other hand, were extremely worth it. No one could believe that goody-two-shoes David would get a piercing. A tongue piercing of all things. Milo and Asher had a ball when they found it, and they lost it when David revealed it was Darlin' who did it for him.

–

"I know Darlin' is into 'bad boys', but I never thought you would change for them," Asher cackled while lying upside down on his couch.

David knew that this was a mistake. He should have kept that part a little secret, but no. He falsely assumed that his best friends would have been mature about it. He'd been a fool to put trust in those two.

Milo, to his credit, didn't fall onto the floor laughing the way Asher did, but even he couldn't stop himself from teasing the larger wolf. "Next thing ya know, he's pullin' up with a damn sleeve like that one guy they brought-" He cut himself off to narrowly miss the pillow David threw. "Hey! Watch where you're throwin' big guy!"

Ignoring Milo, David sat beside Asher on the couch, putting his head in his hands out of frustration. Sure, Darlin' had a specific type of people that they liked, the unsavoury the better according to them. And sure, he couldn't help but compare himself to their past partners. But that didn't mean he didn't want to change himself for them! He had a well-adjusted head on his shoulders, and he knows it's foolish to change yourself for a person.

But if it did make Darlin' like him…

A soft flick to his forehead brought him out of his thoughts. Looking up at his friends, he saw his fellow pack members looking at him with what he could describe as an "are you stupid" look.

"Look we get it," Asher spoke up, moving into his role as voice of reason. "You like them, and I mean this in the best way, you don't look like their type. I know you're smarter than to change your whole self for one person, but seriously. If they don't like you now, they won't like you when you're closer to 'their type.'"

"Besides," Milo added while sitting next to David. "All this is assumin' that they don't like you. Who knows big man, maybe they do."

(Milo tried not to give too much away, for fear of his own life, but come on! Seeing David slumped over like a puppy made him feel bad for the man. It's even worse knowing that Darlin' does like him, but both of them are so emotionally inept that it will take the world ending for them to confess, and even then, one of them will be convinced that the other doesn't really love them. If he has to spend another minute hearing Darlin' lamenting about how David is too good for him, then he'll find a telepath to share their thoughts with each other.)

(And the worst part is that even that might not be enough to break this stalemate.)

–

David eyed the clock in his living room while vacuuming the floor. They would be here in about an hour, and knowing them, they'd probably arrive even earlier than that. All the more reason for him to finish cleaning the house as soon as humanly possible. Lucky for him, he wasn't exactly human.

He, in his naivety, decided to take some political science courses that semester. It made sense, nothing goes better together than politics and business, and with the way his professors stressed the connections between the two fields, it was only a matter of time before David wanted to learn more. He's already required to learn about corporate-related laws. Why not learn all the other types of laws?

The answer to that question is that political science was a dreadful field of study, filled with jargon and old men with pessimistic views of the world. David had always been a numbers guy, and now you're telling him that he had to write essays? The absolute sheer horror.

There were some bright sides, though. Not as bright as their smile, let's not get ahead of ourselves. He sighed, mind eternally consumed with their being and he wouldn't have it any other way.

After seeing his struggle to write down a coherent thought without going on a tangent, Darlin' decided to help his poor soul to write his final paper for their public policy class. It was no issue, they insisted, having already finished their essay a week in advance. When they put their mind to it, Darlin' could do anything. It was what he admired most about them.

The doorbell rang, cutting off David's thoughts. He looked over the room one last time and with a satisfied hum, he walked over to the door.

Behind the door stood Darlin', a dazzling smile on their lips and food in their hands. "With Gabe out of town, I had a feeling that you haven't had good food in a hot minute." Walking right in and going straight to the kitchen, they put the styrofoam box on the dining table.

He closed the door and followed them, mouth-watering and stomach rumbling at the smell of the shawarma platter on the table. They were right in assuming that he hadn't eaten much since his father left for his work trip. Gabe did make a large batch of food so that he didn't rely solely on fast food. Yet even after taking into account his large appetite, David was out of food within a few days. And fast food couldn't dare compete with his father's cooking.

"Yeah, well he should've made more for me." he joked, taking his school bag and sitting on the couch. "Seriously, thank you for helping me out with the essay, you're a god send."

"It's no biggie, Davey," they replied, sitting right beside him and taking out their notes. "Essays like these ain't that hard once you do a couple of them," Darlin' smirked and he already knew that they were preparing to tease him. "I know that's too much thinking for our little business major-"

David didn't give them a chance to continue, tackling them onto the couch. With a pillow in his hands, he smothered their face with enough pressure to keep their mouth closed without suffocating them.

"Alright, you little shit, if you're done making fun of me, how about we get back to this goddamn essay." An eye roll and nod were what he needed to back off, taking the pillow off of their face. But still straddling their hips, he refused to move unless Darlin' asked him to.

There was a moment where they locked eyes. His heart was beating faster as he hoped that maybe they wanted this as much as he did. Maybe he can delude himself into thinking that there was want and lust in Darlin's eyes. Though it was more likely that their eyes were only a reflection of what he desired.

He snapped back to reality when Darlin' cleared their throat. "Can't really help you with your essay from down here, David," they chuckled nervously. He nodded, taking that as his cue to reluctantly get off of them. He grabbed his laptop, opening up his readings for this essay.

Darlin' opened up their essay, and he saw the different coloured highlights on the document. Probably the different parts and ideas he needs to cover for his assignment. "When you do a public policy essay, you need to analyze it based on the goals of the policy, instruments used to enact it and the setting it's used in…"

It was a lot of information to take in, the jargon and language didn't make it any easier to understand what the fuck was being said. Seriously, why do you need ten different terms to describe the same phenomenon? At least the business jargon didn't do that, it only had five different names for the same thing.

Whenever David felt like he couldn't continue, too tired to come up with more ideas to write down, he would take a sneaky look at Darlin'. Eyes lighting up and mouth spilling out a plethora of ideas of how to make the world better, it was clear why they were the right fit for this program. A part of them was determined to help everyone, from the broken to the damn. If they could even save one person, alter their life to make a positive impact, then they would do anything to make it happen.

The problem arose when Darlin' would try to save those who didn't ask for it, or worse, those who would take advantage of it. Bless their bleeding heart, but they were incapable of turning away a lost cause. "I was a lost cause once, so who the fuck am I to turn someone away from my door," they would say to anyone who would raise their concerns. David could recall every single time that Gabe and their parents would have to stop them from being a self-sacrificial martyr, and yet when Darlin' found something or someone to save, there was no stopping them.

And even though he knows that Darlin' is a grown adult who can take care of themselves, that doesn't stop the need to keep them safe. Preferably with him. So if someone who was taking advantage of their kindness turned the corner and left with a broken nose, then he's not saying that he did it. Not always, at least.

After all this introspection about Darlin', his feelings for them and this free speech policy, David put his final thoughts onto his page. Five hours and one thousand, five hundred and fifty-five words later, he was done with this godforsaken essay. Yippee for him, someone should plan him a parade!

Darlin' took a quick look over the essay for any logical and grammatical errors. They gave him the all-clear and he was on his way to hand in the essay. He was so focused on giving in his assignment that he didn't notice Darlin' getting up to grab the shawarma platter.

"Here," they said, sitting next to him and offering the platter to him, "you need all the food you can get." Darlin' didn't wait for a response before placing the food in his lap before turning back to do some more work.

He quietly ate his food, not wanting to break Darlin's concentration on whatever extra assignments they had to do. Their furrowed brows and jutted lip was endearing to him, just wanted to kiss their pout away.

"That reminds me!" They exclaimed, looking back at him, eyes shifting between his mouth and eyes. "How did your piercing heal? I'm thinking nothing went wrong if you haven't called me about anything?" The elephant in the room, or at least for him, was finally being addressed.

"Yeah, it's been great! I really like how it turned out." It was true, never in his life did he think that he'd be the piercing type. He knows that corporate culture was very finicky about what is and isn't appropriate, and he'd never been interested in any kind of body modification. But this piercing was the gateway drug into him exploring the various different ways he can express himself. Maybe he'll get that tattoo sleeve he's been eyeing on the internet? Or a couple of snake bites? (Didn't the last guy have those?)

But as long as Darlin' was next to him, helping him along the journey of self-expression, then bring on any challenge and needles that may come his way!

Scooching a little closer to them and putting a hand over theirs, his eyes softened as his voice became more genuine. "You did an amazing job, Darlin'. Thank you for doing it for me."

They cleared their throat and looked into their lap. "Ahh, you know, it's no big deal, I'm just glad I can help." It was cute seeing the normally cool and confident Darlin' crumbling at the sound of genuine praise. The small and shy smile was all he needed, the satisfaction that he had the same effect on them that they did on him.

He tensed up when they leaned closer, their hand holding his shoulder as they used it as support. "Can I take a look, David? Just to make sure nothing's at risk of anything." They only moved when he nodded, hand moving from his shoulder to cupping his jaw.

David opened his mouth, all of a sudden conscious of any food that might be stuck in between his teeth or metal piercing. He hoped there was nothing left behind, internally cringing at the gross sight. Luckily for him, they didn't seem to be taken aback by anything in his mouth.

They hummed in approval, letting go of his chin and walked to the kitchen. "It looks good. No infection and little scarring, and you seem to be getting used to it." They grabbed a couple of bottles of water from the fridge, handing one to David and uncapping their own.

He took a few sips of his water, swishing it around to get rid of any extra food scraps in his mouth. Even if they didn't say anything, it didn't hurt to make extra sure in case they wanted to kiss him.

As that thought went through his head, his blood went hot. The thought of kissing him reminded him of the promise they made him. That they would let him test out, for lack of confidence to call it what it was, with them. Palms sweaty and knees weak, he debated on whether or not he should remind them.

On one hand, if they dismiss him, this could be the most embarrassing moment of his life. He's always wanted to move to Alaska, they have beautiful weather during this time of year.

Or… he'll get to sleep with Darlin'… even something more.

(At this point, the opportunity cost of each scenario was going through his brain. Trying to find the tradeoff value as well as the line of best fit in order to benefit both himself and Darlin'. If this doesn't make sense, then congratulations on not having the displeasure to take any Introductory to Economics class.)

"Do you remember what I said when I gave you that piercing?" they asked with caution, using the tone they use when they're ready to pull away from a conversation if they don't like his answer. It was frustrating, knowing that they were creating an exit plan without letting him give his answer. But all he could do was reassure them that he wouldn't leave, and he hoped in return, they promise the same.

Calming his beating heart, he replied to Darlin's question. "Yeah, what about it?" He hoped that his even tone didn't give away how desperate he was, borderline ready to throw himself at their feet and beg for their attention.

"Well…" They folded their arms around their back as their voice went deeper. "Do you want to test it out?" He wondered if their lack of shyness or embarrassment was a testament to how much they did not care. His stomach dropped at the thought of them only seeing this as a means of getting off.

But it's better to have fucked than to never be loved at all, or something like that.

He crossed his arms, hoping that they could guard his fragile heart. "I'm down for it if you are," he stated without the overbearing emotion that had his heart in a vice grip. His stomach dropped into the abyss and the pressure building in his head had him questioning how long he could keep this facade up.

David had never met someone so willing to throw themselves into any situation the same way that Darlin' does. A certain confidence and apathy guided and protected them going through their life, and he wonders if this was another example of it. If only he could hold himself high above the clouds the way they do.

He stood his ground with stiff muscles while watching Darlin' saunter on over to him. The smell of cigarette smoke and coconut engulfed his senses (was he also smelling mangos?), leaving him no choice but to hyper-focus on them. He watched as they put a hand on his waist, light to the touch and with caution in their eyes. Always waiting for the nod to continue.

"Can I continue, David?" they asked with the care they seldom reserved for themself. It was frustrating to watch them wear their heart down till there was no love left for them.

He nodded his head, breathing heavily and mentally begging them to do more, but they stood still. A nod was simply not a good enough answer for Darlin'.

They tilted his head with their hand, looking straight into his eyes. "Words, Davey. I ain't moving till you say the magic word," they purred. It was all the encouragement he needed to let out a breathless 'yes' for their hand to pull him closer by his neck into a kiss.

It was painfully soft, not due to lack of passion, but because Darlin' was still treating him like a porcelain doll. He hated it, absolutely despised the fact that he wasn't being treated like the other people he'd seen them kiss. He didn't want to be special, he wanted to be treated like everyone else.

(Scared and anxious is how Darlin' went through life. If an action wasn't thought through entirely, then it wasn't worth taking. They still weren't sure if David wanted to kiss them because he liked them or for other reasons, like wanting the brag about fucking them. Whatever his reason may be, they still wanted to test the waters with him. It was better to be safe than sorry, and with him, they wanted to keep him as safe as possible.)

(He isn't like the other people they kissed. He's so much more and they hope it won't break either of them in the long term.)

He followed their lips as they pulled away from him, desperation filling his body for their kiss, worsened by the sweet scent around him. He was scared that maybe they were coming to their senses and that he'd lose his only chance to kiss them.

Lust and love took control of his body and he pulled Darlin' back into him. He sighed when their lips touched his, smirking at the surprised whine that they let out. Wrapping his arm around their waist and a hand on their back, he was going to make sure they'd never leave him again.

He pushed Darlin’ against the pool table, hands on either side of their body, leaning in until his lips were barely touching theirs. Darlin's eyes grew wide as he closed in on them, stopping only when they were a breath apart. Their bravado slowly fell apart, breath quickening with each passing moment. As fun as their teasing was, David couldn't help but enjoy how he'd managed to turn the tables, even if only for a brief moment.

Darlin' snapped out of their daze, hands beginning to wander once they regained their bearings. They started at his hips, moving up his sides before pressing warm palms against even warmer skin. They paid close attention to what made his breath hitch, their eyes seeming to commit everything to memory. He hoped it wasn't in vain.

Adjusting their hands, they used their thumbs to press against his nipples experimentally, enjoying the groan their touch pulled from deep in his throat. He pressed them harder into the table as a breathless laugh escaped them.

"How about a nipple piercing the next time? Play your cards right and I might be nice and do them both," they said with a smile and a playful gleam in their eyes.

David chuckled, with his eyes darkening. He leaned in, hovering his lips over their ear. “Maybe, but right now I want to test out another piercing.” He licked the shell of their ear, blowing on it to make them shiver. He adored the way their body opened up against him, leaning their head back to expose more of them to his mercy.

He kissed their lips, soft and playful, wanting to get them back for earlier. They gave him a warning growl, giving him a chance to kiss them properly and end this game. David didn't hedge, instead teasing them with another peck that had another growl tearing from their throat.

His amusement was short-lived when he felt a hand around his neck, squeezing firmly and pulling him in close. His head spun deliciously the longer they deprived him of the ability to breathe.

David leaned back, looking at them with pleading eyes. Being choked was never a kink he thought he would have, but he hopes Darlin’ keeps their hands on his neck for the rest of the night. They tilted his head to the side with the hand on his chin, like they were inspecting something. The air was thick under their suffocating gaze, and David felt the wind knocked out of him. The way their eyes were locked on had him wondering what they were looking for. Maybe they were looking for any sign that the piercing may have infected him.

He swallowed, a stupid thought running through his head. Maybe they were looking for any sign that anyone else left a mark on him? He had to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing. Do they really think David would fuck around with other people, especially when he finally had the chance to be marked by him? And even if he did, he would never let them mark his neck.

That honour was reserved for them, and them alone.

With a stern tone, Darlin’ asked David, “Are you going to keep fucking around, or are you going to kiss me properly?” He had no choice but to nod his head, completely enamoured with their voice.

They smirk, their grip on his throat loosening as their fingers slowly trace a path to the back of his neck to settle there instead. Then they pushed, forcing him closer until their lips were pressed against his ear.

“Good boy, David.”

The sound went through his ears and shot straight down to his cock.

Huh, for someone who’s as much of a control freak as he is, he’s surprised that he would relinquish control to Darlin’ that quickly. He’s even more surprised that it feels good to not be in control for once in his life.

“Mmmm, my oh my, what sharp teeth you have Mr. Shaw,” they purred, crashing their mouth onto his, running their tongue over his canines and sucking on his piercing. There wasn’t much David could do except groaning, too overwhelmed with the sensations he was feeling. “Whatever would you do with them?” Their alluring eyes and shit-eating grin rekindled the fire within him to get back at them.

This was it. This was David's chance to finally get back at Darlin' for every heated glance and flirty remark they had subjected him to over the years. Memories of every fleeting touch and teasing uptick of perfect lips spurred him on in his goal of returning the favour to them tenfold.

(Part of David also wanted to get back at Darlin’ for making him fall in love with them. For raising his hopes whenever they gave him their adoration and genuine smiles only to take someone else to their bed. It was stupid and selfish and childish but he didn’t care. He wanted them and this was the closest way to have them.)

(If only he knew that they loved him as much as he did them. If only they would bare their hearts to each other, being honest to themselves and their desires for once in their lives.)

Trying to gain back some control and doing what he thought would make them feel good, he grabbed their ass and moved their hips against his. His pants were getting tighter with every moan that left their mouth. It was pure music to his ears and he was determined to draw out more sounds from them. He grabbed their thighs and picked them up, placing them on the pool table.

He chuckled when Darlin’ let out a surprised yelp and continued to grind into their crotch. “You like my teeth, beautiful? Want to see what I can do with them?”

He bared his teeth against their skin, making sure they could feel each one of his teeth and that the mark left behind would stay for the rest of their shared lives. Their enthusiastic nods were enough to give him the confidence needed to leave their lips and kiss other areas of their body.

He kissed down from their jaw to their neck, leaving soft kisses and sucking on their skin. Darlin’ shuddered and sighed, burying their fingers in his hair. Relishing the reaction that he was getting from them, he gently bit their neck. It wasn’t enough to bruise, but it was pleasurable if Darlin’s increased volume was anything to go by. Darlin' pulled him closer, moaning and whispering in his ear, “Oh, you can be rougher than that, sugar.”

There was just one small issue.

He didn’t know how.

For all of his cockiness and initiative that he took tonight, it didn’t change the fact that he was a virgin and this was the most he'd ever fooled around with another person.

It wasn’t like David was actively avoiding sex, he just never found the time to form sexual relationships with someone. Between his classes, extracurriculars, work and looking for internships, losing his virginity had always been put on the back burner. Besides, he never found the right person to lose it with. Any time he’d muster up the courage, the little doubts in his brain would creep into his brain, and make him back down.

Confidence can only get a man so far, and he realized with their hand in his hair and legs wrapped around his waist that maybe he bit off more than he could chew.

He didn't realize that they paused when he did. They noticed that his hands had stopped moving and his lips stayed still. Moving both hands from his hair, they cupped his cheek and placed his forehead on theirs.

“Hey, you still with me?” They asked with a soft tone and looked straight into his eyes.

There was nothing but care and warmth in them. He wasn’t expecting anything else though. This was Darlin’, warm and caring to the bone and forever willing to share it with others. Even at their own detriment.

They caressed his cheek to try and ground him in reality. “We can stop, you know.”

Gently, Darlin’ pushed David back, giving him the space he didn’t need to breathe. “I know you still haven't fucked with anyone like this, and I know it can be a lot.” They smiled, but David could sense some disappointment from them. “We can stop at any point you want.”

“But what about you?” he asked, always wanting to make sure that their needs would also be taken care of.

Their soft demeanour morphed back into the cocky, yet not over-confident attitude that he was accustomed to. How Darlin’ could shift between personas so quickly would always be a mystery to him.

“Don’t worry about me, sugar.” Before David could rebuttal, they placed a finger on his mouth. “I’ll hop in the shower and fuck my fingers,” they said casually, shrugging their shoulders before continuing. “Or I’ll find someone else to fuck. Either or works.”

His blood lit up like a match.

Through his own heart roaring in his ears, David took a moment to gauge whether they were serious. When they didn't balk under his gaze, he swallowed the growl threatening to rise from within his chest. Had Darlin' said to his face that they wouldn't hesitate to find someone else to finish with? That they would find someone else to bring to bed when he was already there? Did they not realize that those words alone had stoked the whispers of doubt and threatened to confirm all of his fears that he wasn't good enough for them?

He couldn’t stand the mere thought of another’s hands on them, especially when he finally got to touch them like this. David wanted to be the one who Darlin’ ran to whenever they had a hard day. He wants to grant them comfort and sanctuary in a way no one has ever done in their life. The darkest depths of his desire urge him to go beyond his protective Beta (and an almost ignition of his Alpha) instincts and keep them all to himself.

With him, Darlin’ will be safe. With him, Darlin’ will feel rapture.

He’d been dreaming of this moment for so long, and he won’t give it up for anything, or anyone.

With that, his mouth turned into a snarl. "You're staying right fucking here," he snarled into their ear, the earlier growl escaping before he had a chance to reel it back. There was no way he was going to let them go that easily, insecurities be damned. His fingers dug into strong thighs and warm skin with the strength to bruise, trying to contain the storm of emotions at the idea that their future partner wasn't him.

"You're staying with me."

His words made their eyes go wide and guilty, almost like a fawn, and completely unlike their usual sharp, wolf-like features. Underneath his hands, he could feel Darlin’ tense up and he could hear their heart speed up. David wanted Darlin’ to forget about their concerns and his hesitance, and instead opting to fall completely under this trance he’s created for them.

But with a shake of their head, Darlin’ was able to look through the jealousy and anger to the part of David that was still new to all of this. They ran a hand through his hair, adoration dripping from their fingers, and watched some of the rage leave his body as his face relaxed. It wasn’t enough to let go of all of his complicated feelings, but it was a start.

“I’m serious,” they started again with that infuriatingly soft tone. “There’s no rush, and I don’t want you to force yourself to do something if you’re not a hundred percent ready for it.”

(Watching David get possessive sent their heart soaring, but they needed to make absolutely sure that this was what he wanted. That they were who he wanted.)

David took a deep breath to clear his mind. He was completely out of his element, and the lack of knowledge and control of what happened next terrified him. But he was with Darlin’, and he trusted Darlin’ with his life and his heart, even if he wasn’t ready to give it to them.

“I want this- I want you. It’s just…” His voice trailed off with embarrassment, but Darlin’ was able to catch on.

The sound of their laughter reassured him more than any words could. “We all start somewhere, David. Ain’t nothing to be ashamed about.” Their hands massaged his shoulders so that he could let go of some tension. “How about you tell me what you want to do, and I tell you how to do it. Sounds good?”

Part of him wanted to throw that idea into the void. He shouldn’t have to be told how to pleasure them, he should just be able to do it. How else can he prove himself as a worthy mate?

The weaker part of him wanted to give in and listen to every command that they gave him. That side ended up winning.

David took a deep breath, steadying his heart and calming his nerves. As much as it was a hit to his pride, it made logical sense for them to take control. He can’t pleasure them if he doesn’t know what to do. It would be a struggle to give up control to them, but he could do it. If they took the lead, then it would be ok. There was nothing they could do to hurt him. He trusted them.

There was no one on this plane of existence that he would trust over them right now. Even if it seems like that trust isn’t reciprocated.

“I- I can do that. You can, I don't know, take control…” He cringed at his tone and choice of words. Milo, Ash and Darlin’ were able to string along the smoothest of pickup lines and dirty talk, but for whatever reason, he couldn’t emulate that same energy. Ugh, what an annoyance.

David tried to save himself from utter embarrassment, trying to come up with something more appropriate. But all of his attempts left Darlin’ giggling, and as precious as their laugh was, this was not the situation he’d want to hear it in.

They covered their mouth with a hand. “I’m sorry! You’re just being really fucking adorable right now.” They squished his cheeks with both of their hands. “I could eat you alive right now, you’re that cute, sugar.”

With a scoff and an eye roll from David, Darlin’ knew it was their cue to put their hands back on his shoulders. There was a time for teasing, and there was a time for praise. “Hey, remember. Everyone starts somewhere.”

Everyone did indeed start from somewhere. But did everyone start with the love of their lives sitting on a pool table? Ready to let them guide him during this vulnerable point in his life?

What a lucky man he is.

“So tell me, sugar, what do you want to do?” Their concern melted away, now a hundred percent confident that this is what he wants. Darlin’ leaned back with one arm supporting their weight, taking a good look at him. David puffed his chest out, liking their attention on him. He was proud of the body he worked hard for and being used as eye candy for Darlin’.

Their other hand played with the button of his jeans, making sure to avoid the bulge that had been there for a while. “Well…”

He rolled his shoulders back and placed an arm around their body, caging them on top of the pool table. He kissed them, adoring the way they melted into him and moaned softly against his lips. He slipped his tongue between their lips, making sure to caress every nook and cranny of their mouth. Once he was temporarily satisfied with his claim on their mouth, he ran his piercing over their teeth, relishing the clink that came from it.

Reluctantly, he parted away from their lips. He was entranced by their face, eyes trailing from their glowing cheeks and swollen lips. Beautiful. They were absolutely beautiful, even if they denied it. He was going to make sure that even if they didn’t care about him or his love, at the very least, he could provide some form of pleasure and love from his end.

“I want to put my piercing to the test.” He slid a hand underneath their shirt, grazing over their chest and adoring the way their body squirmed and stiffened. “Do you remember why I asked about it in the first place?” David placed his mouth on their neck, smirking at them flinching when the cold metal touched their warm skin.

Darlin’ held onto his shoulders to balance themselves. “Y-yeah, I remember.”

He felt a violent groan vibrate in their chest and he knew that he teased them far too much for their liking. They grabbed onto the strands of his hair and yanked them back. Their doe-like eyes turned back into the wolf-like features that he was more familiar with. David had a feeling that he was about to become prey to be used to their liking.

With a smirk, Darlin’ shoved his head back and growled in his ear.

“Get on your knees then, sugar. Show me what that mouth can do.”

Dazed by the tone of their voice, David got on his knees. Shaking with pleasure, he looked up at Darlin’s almost condescending aura. Being as tall as he is, he’d never had to look up at anybody. He quite liked this view, especially if it meant Darlin’ looks at him with those piercing eyes, gleaming with dominance and mischief.

Slowly, Darlin’ opened their legs with a lazy smile and beckoned him to come closer. “Come on, handsome. We don’t got all day and you’re the one who wants to put your mouth on me.” At this point, David’s heart was ready to combust all over the floor. How they casually made his heart soar and cock hard was something that needed to be studied.

He crawled over to Darlin’, finally in between their thighs and eyes level with their chest. Warmth and salvation coursed through his blood. He'd always thought that if heaven was a place on Earth, it would be between Darlin's legs. If he choked to death tonight, he would die a happy man.

Letting out a whistle, Darlin’ held his chin up, forcing him to look at them. “My, oh my, David. You look so pretty on your knees.” His cheeks went hot with embarrassment and every fibre of his body begged for him to refute their claims. But before he could look away and hide away in their thighs, their hold on his chin tightened and they let out a disappointed click of their tongue. “No, no, baby. You’re gonna keep those pretty eyes on me, is that clear?”

His head had officially gone blank and he nodded, willing to do anything that they would have asked him in that moment.

“Good boy, David. You’re doing amazing sugar.” They praised him in the sultry tone that made his knees weak. Luckily, he wasn’t standing or else he would have fallen over.

His hands hover over their body, unsure of where to put them. He desperately wanted to hold their thighs again, or maybe their hips - honestly, he just wanted to touch his darling. But he knew that Darlin’ tends to balk at unexpected touches, even from dear friends. Then again, he’s also seen… videos where the more dominant partner just grabs their partner or partners with no hesitation. Should he do that? Or maybe wait for what they say? Or maybe…

Darlin’s eyebrow rose, queueing him that they noticed the glazed-over look in David’s eyes. They already knew that his mind was wandering in unnecessary places. “Oh David,” they drew out with their teasing voice, “I can’t be losing you already?” The hand in his hair and the other stroking his cheek brought him back to reality. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, baby?”

He mustered up some of that fake confidence, hoping that it would translate into actual conviction once he put his mouth on them. There was no point in hiding what he desired, and right now, he craved to taste them and watch them fall apart under his tongue. Besides, he knew that no matter what, Darlin’ would never let him down. They have proven that fact time and time again, and he can trust them when he’s vulnerable and under their spell.

(Though not at his most vulnerable. He still has reservations about confessing to them, but those were more of his faults and none of his. Dare he say that they were perfect, from their perfect smile to their pristine white fur coat, and he was the unruly beast whose torture was to have everything he wanted just out of his reach. That won’t stop him. He’ll find the courage to hand them his bleeding heart, just not right now.)

(Hell was the other people who made Darlin’ smile, and he's going to rectify that fact sooner rather than later, but still later.)

“Where do you want my hands on you?” He softly ran his hands over their thighs. “You’re in control here.” Not that they needed reminding, given their eye roll.

They grabbed his hands, holding them in front of their face. Darlin’ ran a finger over every line on his palm, the gentle touch being enough to make him shiver. “Hmm, what to do with your hands?” Darlin’ pondered as they placed a kiss on each knuckle. If he wasn’t dying from how tempting they were, he’d be dying because of how adorable they were.

Finally done with their pondering, though David has a feeling that they knew what they wanted him to do from the beginning, they put his hands on the buttons of their jeans.

“Take them off, sugar.”

His mind raced in different directions, all of them leading to seeing the wolf in front of him in different directions. He knew this was going to happen, you can’t have sex with all your clothes on. But to actually see this - see them - is a whole other thing. And while the wolf in front of him would be more beautiful than whatever pitiful image his mind conjured up, he doesn’t think his heart will be able to survive to truly admire their beauty.

Deft hands unbuttoned their jeans, heeding the warning Darlin’ gave about ripping their clothes. If the image of their bare body wasn’t enough to drive him mad, his senses were overloaded with the scent of their arousal. He’d had whiffs of the intoxicating scent, after finding them in compromisable positions. This was different though. It was concentrated, it was overbearing in the best way, and it was all for him. Only him.

He wouldn't admit the possessive spark from deep in his heart that was born.

After resisting the desire to rip their jeans off and carefully unbuttoning them, David held their hips, waiting for Darlin’ to give their next set of instructions.

“Very good, David,” they moaned, giving his hair a good ruffle. They gestured to him to scooch back a little bit and jumped off the pool table. After stretching their back from sitting for so long, they put their hands on top of his. “It’s getting a little hot in here, don’t you think, sugar?” Without waiting for a response, Darlin’ guided David’s hands to take off their jeans.

To say that this was a dream come true would be an understatement.

He could see the end of scars on their thighs that started from their hips, the birthmark and blemishes, and the bruises that he left behind. David makes a note to press harder for next time, just so he could leave darker marks on them. This being Darlin’, they make everything more difficult than it has to be, so of course they were pulling their pants and underwear down at a glacial pace. But he dare not defy the speed they set, both to not make them uncomfortable, or have them disappointed in him.

Finally, finally, Darlin’s jeans came off and they stepped out of them. There was no coherent thought in his head due to the sight and scent of them, except for them to allow him to put his mouth on them. He deserved it because he’s been waiting for so long. They deserved it because they deserve all the pleasure in this world.

And he was going to make sure he’d be the only person who could bring them that level of joy.

Hopping back onto the pool table, Darlin’ took off the rest of their clothes that they had on, leaving them naked in front of David.

Were they trying to kill him? It was already too much for him to see them without their pants on, but now they were taking off everything? Leaving nothing to his sorry imagination?

Vile, terrible, and wickedly cruel - the despicable, conniving wolf he fell in love with. He must be the luckiest man alive.

He eyed their body, taking in every detail for him to conjure up whenever he was alone. He couldn’t think of anything to say about them except for the fact that they were beautiful. That they were an angel sent from above as his salvation. Or maybe the devil who’d damn him to hell. In either case, he was ready to follow them wherever they may want to go. Including all the way to Vancouver for some fucking coffee.

(Darlin’s insecurities run rampant, that much isn’t a surprise. They never understood why anyone found them attractive, yet they always rolled with it. They were also known to throw caution to the wind and do some impulsive things. But even they were taken aback when they took off their own shirt. They were sure that David would have got up and left without saying another word.)

(They weren’t lying when they said David looks pretty on his knees. But the way he looked up at them almost reverently, like he was on his knees praying at a church, was doing too much to their fragile heart. Then again, it was David. And he wouldn’t do anything to hurt them.)

“Get back over here, sugar. There’ll be more time for you to touch this body later on,” they laughed and pulled his head closer. He was only a hair's breadth away from where they needed him the most. Scent makes up most of your taste, so he already knows that they will taste divine. Bodies entwined and his hands itching, he’s damn near dying to get his mouth on them.

Darlin’ held his chin and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “Can you open your mouth for me real quick? I just need to do something real quick, ok?” He had no idea what they were about to do. Was there a secret step that needed to be done that they didn’t show in the sex scenes he endured over the years? He wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case, so he opened his mouth, knowing they had everything under control.

He was certainly not expecting them to spit on his tongue.

David whimpered when their spit hit his tongue, which was drier than usual. Probably because their mouth is unnaturally warm and addicting. This wasn’t an unwelcome feeling though, and he’d love to see them spit on his cock later on. If he’s lucky tonight won’t be a one-time thing.

Manically grinning while watching their spit run down his tongue, they used their tongue to spread their spit on his piercing. He moaned, and when he tried to pull his head back because it was getting too much, Darlin’ gripped his chin tighter and pulled him in closer, practically shoving their tongue to the back of his throat.

They pulled back and hummed in appreciation at the sight in front of them. Satisfied by the blissed-out look in David’s eyes and the spit surrounding the piercing, Darlin’ smiled and blew gently on the metal. He felt a shiver down his spine and blood rushing to his cock, the slight cold being something he wasn’t used to but definitely wasn’t not welcoming. “Alrighty then,” they sighed and leaned back, still adoring the dazed expression on his face. “It feels better when the piercing’s cold.”

At this point, David wasn’t even sure he was paying much attention anymore. All he could think about was how he was burning to taste them, to drink down every drop of pleasure he could squeeze out of them, to drag them over that edge as many times as they demanded until they were spent and sated. But despite aching to bury his face in their thighs, he waited for their command. He’s done so good so far, he’s not going to disappoint them yet.

“I didn’t think you had it in you to be this patient, David,” they cooed while placing their thumb on his bottom lip. “Thought you would have gone feral by now and done whatever you wanted.” Oh, he was so close to his breaking point, but his resolve was strong for now.

“Does my good boy finally want to put that pretty mouth to good use?”

David’s head perked up at the question, his eyes widening and mouth-watering. Nodding his head with a renewed vigour, he exclaimed, “Yes please!” His desperation was obvious to both him and Darlin’, and while he would never want to show too much emotion around them, wanting to keep his aloof Beta persona, he couldn’t give a damn right now.

He was finally going to taste them, and it was going to be worth it.

Darlin’ giggled at his reaction. They knew he was desperate, but they didn’t think he was over the edge of composure. He bets that it was amusing to see their cold Beta be so open about his feelings. “You asked for it, pretty boy.” They took his hands and placed them on his thighs. “Can you put them on your shoulders? Pretty please.” Their voice was dripping with faux innocence but he saw right past it.

He picked up their legs and threw them over his shoulders, grinning at the moan Darlin’ let out. He may have done it a little more aggressively than necessary to make up for all the teasing, but that wasn’t the point, now was it? He felt the strong muscles cushioning his ears and heels digging into his back. His heavy breaths against them made them shake in his hold. He could see how they were dripping for him. It was nice to know that he had the same effect on them as they did on him.

Looking up from between his legs, he silently asked permission to use his mouth. With Darlin’s nod giving him the green light, he prodded at them with his tongue, trying to figure out what felt good for them. They shivered, the cold piercing doing exactly what they said it would, giving them an additional sensation to derive pleasure from.

He was right. They tasted divine and he was rapidly becoming addicted. David was fully prepared to give up his worldly duties in favour of becoming Darlin’s permanent seat. The warmth that radiated from their body had lit a flame in him that wasn’t going away. Not until he could see them fall apart around his mouth.

“F-fuck David,” they said through a string of moans. He could feel their thighs squeezing his head and hand tugging his hair, pulling his head closer, which meant he must be doing something right. He became emboldened to bury himself deeper, with his hands spreading them apart and pulling them closer.

He noticed that every time he growled and moaned against them, Darlin’ would moan louder and at a higher pitch. The facade they created earlier was falling apart, and David was honoured that they would drop it around them.

Through their moans and tensing body, they grabbed David’s hands from their legs and placed them on their chest. He looked up at them with confusion, until Darlin’ spoke up with a breathy voice.

“Touch me, David. Don’t let your mouth do all the work.” He nodded, continuing to devour them with his tongue while also squeezing his chest. “Oh- shit, that’s it, sugar!” They were grinding themselves against his mouth and he was obsessed. He continued to grope their chest, pinching their nipples between his fingers to draw out every moan he could.

David could feel that they were getting closer. He couldn’t move his tongue more freely in them, and he almost thought that they were in pain. But the wanton moans and pleas they were letting out had clued him in that they were having as much fun as he was. If he wasn’t careful, he’d climax on his own and untouched just at the sight of their release.

With a growl, Darlin’ ripped a hand from his chest and guided him to stroke them. “Keep moving- shit- just like that,” they groaned, pushing his hands and face closer to them. He choked and moaned into them, deeply consumed into their entire being.

It was when Darlin’ let out a high-pitched moan and convulsed forward that he knew that he finally tipped them over the edge. Holding their hips to stop them from falling, he swallowed every bit of them that he could. Darlin’ leaned back, heaving like they were done with a marathon. David reluctantly pulled away, but the sight of them breathless and eyes blown out with lust was much worth it. He could always get on his knees again.

He slowly stood up with Darlin’s legs wrapped around his waist and his clothed chest against their bare one. David could see their doe-like eyes, elated over the fact that it was all because of him. He brought them that joy. He made them feel like they were walking amongst the stars. And he wishes that he could get on his knees again.

Making sure they calmed down enough to look him in the eyes, David wiped their slick off his mouth, licking the back of his hand to not waste a single drop. Darlin’s eyes never left him, and he heard their heartbeat speed up.

“That… that was hot.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s all you have to say?” He questioned, without betraying the fear in his heart that he wasn’t up to their expectations.

Darlin’ rolled their eyes and in between their breathing, they huffed out, “Excuse me, sir. Let- let me catch my breath.” They closed their eyes and took a deep breath, looking the most serene they have looked in all of their time together. David memorized everything about them right now, afraid that he’ll never see this view again.

(Darlin’, in their incoherent thoughts, was still able to deduce that giving David that tongue piercing was the best idea they could have come up with.)

They ruffled with his hair, giggling at the deadpan look David gave them. “You were amazing, sugar. Are you sure this was your first time?”

“We both know the answer to that,” he joked and leaned in for another kiss. But before his lips could touch his, he paused. Was this ok? He kissed them earlier, but that was before he made them come. Maybe now that they’ve gotten what they needed, they don’t want anything to do with him.

In his pondering, Darlin’ closed their eyes and the gap between them. He melted against their lips, placing a hand on their back to keep his steady.

This time, the kiss was sweet. It didn’t have the urgency of lust from earlier. It was calm, like it was alright for him to get lost in them because they would help him through the fog. David didn’t know if that was his love-sick mind thinking that, or maybe that it might be the actual truth.

Pulling away with a smile and laughing when David trailed after them, Darlin’ hopped off the pool table. Instead of picking up their clothes to put them back on, they pushed him against the table. “So handsome, is it your turn?”

David felt the heat rush down to his cock. There wasn’t a doubt in his brain that he wanted Darlin’, especially with them naked and smirking in front of him. He craved to make his fantasies into reality, wanting to inflict them with all the want and lust that he’d caused them over the years.

Maybe he could bend them over the pool table?

Push them against the wall.

Or maybe he'd take them to his room and drench their scent into his bed.

There was just one problem…

“If you don’t want to, I get it.” Darlin’s voice broke him from his trance. “I get it if you want to do it with someone you care about, and y’know, have it mean something, and like it’s just me so-”

“This does mean something to me,” he cut their rambling off. David has known that underneath their bravado and confidence, Darlin’ was often insecure about their excess amount of care. It was the thing he hated most about them. Nothing more angering and heart was breaking than watching them cut themselves off or ramble on an unnecessary excuse. He won’t have it, especially if he knows that they have nothing to worry about.

Darlin’ gave a blank stare and as David was preparing to repeat himself, they spoke, albeit without their usual confidence.

But before he could respond, Darlin’ looked down, hesitance and shyness crept into their voice. “You actually mean that?” Their question was laced with quiet want, or at least he hoped it was a desire for him. He prayed that they had been suppressing their feelings for him.

Lucky for them, he had that same longing, for this to mean more than what they thought the other wanted.

He held their jaw, tilting their head up to look into their pretty eyes. The lust from earlier turned into a softer love. Instead of being blown out with pleasure, the sharp angles of their face softened, their usual yet rare doe aura returning. As much as David wanted to deny the fact that Darlin’ could actually be in love with him, it was getting harder to deny when he could see his own desire reflected in their face.

Unfortunately for them and everyone around them, Darlin’ and David adored the idea of plausible deniability. It was easier to assume that something isn’t true unless it’s being thrown into their faces. Although, they use this concept for different reasons.

For David, it was an annoyance for people to speak to him in riddles and code. He’d rather everyone just be straightforward with what they’re trying to say.

For Darlin’ it was harder for the cops to tie you to a crime if you’re seen smiling at the security cameras, or looking away from your best friend at the right time.

David leaned in, pressing his lips onto their forehead. They deserve a proper confession, and he wanted to give it to them. For now, this would have to be enough for both of them. It was more than they could ever crave. He pulled back, looking at Darlin’s eyes fluttering closed and they edged closer to him. It was a softer kiss than either of them expected from the other, but it was needed all the same.

Darlin’ was used to throwing themselves full force into everything, always bracing for impact. David needed to prove to them and to himself that he would be there to cushion them. Because if he doesn’t, then who else will?

(His wolf howled selfishly at the thought of him being the only one taking care of them.)

Darlin’ wrapped their arms around his neck and pulled him closer. Breaking the kiss, they chuckled when David let out a little whine, following their lips to keep kissing them.

“Well, if you’re game for it, so am I.” Whispering in his ear, they asked him, “Where do you want to do it, sugar?”

His mind and blood raced downwards, thinking about the many different fantasies that Darlin’ would make come true at this moment. Looking around the room, his eyes landed on the pool table behind them, and a bold idea entered his mind.

“I want you to ride me on top of the pool table.”

Silence filled the air and David thought that maybe he had gone too far. Fuck- fuck! Did he push it for his first time? Was Darlin’ uncomfortable with the idea, but was convincing themselves to go through with it so his first time would be perfect? Did they not know any first time with them would be perfect?

“I didn’t think you had it in you to ask that, baby Alpha?” They crooned, pushing his back against the pool table. Darlin’ stared into his eyes and held his shirt, only taking it off when David gave them the ok. Shirt on the ground, they stared at his torso, running their hands over his torso, resting them on his chest.

“Holy fucking hell, Shaw.” David could see Darlin’s breath quicken and their eyes went wide, and he could hear their heartbeat pick up a little bit. He puffed his chest in pride seeing the trance Darlin’ was under. Thankfully not the normal trances they were used to.

Pouting like a child, their lips traced his collarbone, causing David’s knees to go weak. His hands went down to Darlin’s waist, debating on whether or not he should pull them closer. He didn’t have to make that choice, with them taking the initiative to push their bare body into his. “You’ve been hiding one hell of a body, Davey,” they smiled, kissing his neck and torso.

“Well you’re one- shit, to talk,” he choked out, squirming in his place. He pulled their head back, noting how Darlin’s voice went higher. Instead of looking him in his eyes, their gaze was fixed on the button on his pants. There was something in Darlin’ that was holding them back from ripping his jeans, he could see it in the way their nails dug into his thighs, a spark of pleasure and pain going through his body.

Not wanting to waste another minute, he took a deep breath and unbuttoned his own pants. If Darlin’ was waiting for him to be ready, he’ll show that he’s been waiting for this moment for as long as he’s known them.

Their hands let go of his thighs, grabbing onto the waistband of his pants and underwear to pull them down. He hissed as the air hit his bare and cold body. He couldn't decide if he should look at Darlin' or not, fearing that he would see disappointment in their eyes. So he kept his gaze low, baring himself in his entirety before the love of his life.

Darlin' didn't say a word, just quietly tracing their hands over his body. It was gentler than anyone would have expected from them. But the average person didn't know how Darlin' would hold themselves back to stop themselves from pouring too much of themselves, causing the other person to be overwhelmed. But David would do anything for the honour of drowning in their love.

"Look…" they pleaded, placing a hand under his chin to tilt his head up. He looked up slowly, his wide eyes meeting their tender expression. With a smile, they caressed his face with their hand. "You're so pretty, you know that right?" He knew that objectively, it's hard to ignore your looks when you have people gawking as if you're a Greek god. But being told and actually believing it were two different things.

With Darlin' though, their hands and body slotted against him like a puzzle piece, he feels pretty. Actually pretty.

"Speak for yourself," he chuckled, butterflies filling his stomach. "You're beautiful, Darlin'." Because if he is pretty, then they were downright gorgeous. The sun in wolf form, blessed by Angels and saints that have long eluded him. Why ask for a guardian angel when he had Darlin' with him?

They rolled their eyes, a cocky expression on their face. "Sugar, I already know that." Not that it stopped the bashful smile on their face. Confidence surged through his body, he had the same effect on Darlin' as they did on him, and he would use it for the future.

Pushing the hair stuck on their sweaty forehead, he snarked, "all the more reason to call you beautiful, beautiful." His eyes were drawn to their lips as they bit them, desperately to tug on them with his own. So he did exactly that.

Leaning forward to press his forehead onto theirs, he kissed their lips, holding the back of their head to pull them closer. David tilted his head, slipping his tongue inside of their mouth. He could feel their sharpening teeth and their little gasps and moans. David bit their lip while pulling away, relishing in the sharp breath they took.

A second of silence goes by before David spoke up, snapping Darlin' out of their daze. "Are you going to ride me, or do I need to fuck you myself?" It was false bravado and confidence that was dripping from his voice, but he didn't care. His cock was aching to be inside of them, now.

They raised an eyebrow with a smile. "Hold on, let me grab something real quick."

"I have condoms in my pants," he yelled out from behind them. He was sure that they didn't have any infections, knowing that they go to get regular checkups. And he definitely didn't have any, since, well, this was his first time. But a man could never be too safe, and David was ready to take any and all precautions.

"Not a condom, but thank you David!" They came back with a blanket, laying it on top of the pool table. "I don't want you to get road- er, pool-burned?" they mumbled to themselves, wondering if that was the right choice of words. But they shook their head because they thought that this was the wrong time to think about word choices. For David's sake at least.

He moved to place himself in front of the blanket, pulling them alongside him by their waist. "Thank you, beautiful."

"No problem, sugar," they cooed, playing with his hair. They took a condom from his pocket, ripping it open with their teeth. Carefully, they unrolled it over David's cock, going slowly to not overstimulate David.

(Not yet, at least.)

With some of that earlier confidence, David leaned back against the table. "You know, I think you're full of shit, Darlin'." He wondered that if he egged them on enough, they'd finally do something to him, relieving some of the desperation pooling in his stomach.

He froze under their steely gaze and arched eyebrows. "Really, you think so?" Their voice went from warm and caring to cold and detached. It should have made him step back, but he kept going.

He stood taller and leaned over them. "All this time, and you haven't done shit but just talk." He squeezed their ass and pushed them against the pool table. "Maybe I should show you how it's done," he whispered into their ear, kissing and biting their neck.

For a moment, David could have deluded himself into thinking that he would actually be able to take control of this moment.

That was until Darlin' pushed him back with a hand on his throat. "Oh, aren't you precious, little Alpha?" A dark chuckle and a darker look were all it took for David's knees to get weak, ready to get onto the ground and be obedient to Darlin'.

Before he could agitate them further, Darlin' picked David up by his thighs, turning around and laying him down on top of the blanket. "You were saying, Davey? Something about me just 'talkin' shit'?" They climbed onto the pool table, hovering over David.

David needed control like he needed his magic to shift. It was weird being under someone, and he had half the mind to push them off him. But it's Darlin'. They won't let anything bad happen to him.

"Well?" Their voice shook them out of their thoughts. "You said you wanted to tell me what to do?" They leaned forward so they were chest to chest, forehead to forehead. "So tell me, sugar?"

Darlin's glare was enough to make his throat dry, words in Spanish and English leaving his brain. To make it worse, their hand gently played with the head of his cock, finding wicked joy in his struggle. The light pressure made his head spin, but every time he'd raise his hips to grind against their hand, Darlin' would push him back down.

"That's not what I asked you to do, sugar," they mocked with fake pity. A firm squeeze to his head was all David needed to cry out, but it didn't deter the wolf. "I asked you," they paused to kiss his neck, trailing up to whisper in his ear, "what do you want me to do?"

His mind had a million options wishing to spill out between parted lips. He wanted their hand, but he also wanted their mouth with lips stretching around him as they took him down their sinful throat. He wanted them, under him, over him, with their nails digging into his shoulders...

But what he offered them was a growl that melted into a whimper when he realized he'd take anything at all if it meant they didn't stop.

Hips threatened to buck up into their grasp to get even a fraction more of their touch, but they kept true to their word and waited. Another growl left him, of frustration this time. It ended the same as the first did, though words followed as his body burned for more.

"Please, need you to..."

A hum left their lips, dancing in the air.

David knew they had to be getting some sick enjoyment from this. He also knew the thought alone had him growing harder against their palm, but their tongue swiping along their lower lip showed it was a welcome discovery.

Rolling his head back, he groaned and felt like he was about to burst from the sight alone.

"Just ride me already," he hissed, a choked breath leaving him when they shifted their hand ever so slightly. "Fuck, please ride me. Need it. Need you..." he rambled, relieved when he lifted his head and found himself staring into blown pupils.

Taking mercy on him, Darlin' let go of their cock, smiling at his flustered state. They leaned back, admiring the mess that they made him. "Now was that so hard, hm?" They sat back onto his cock, grinding against it to make sure he was ready for them. He held onto their hips, both in a plea for them to go faster and to hold himself steady.

Deeming him ready for that sweet release, they moved up onto their knees, holding onto his cock to keep him still. "Are you ready?" they asked gleefully, stroking his cock to make sure he was slick and ready for them.

He couldn't find the words to say yes though. Not because he was having second thoughts, but because he couldn't believe his situation right now. Darlin', the wolf he's been in love with since they joined the pack, was willing to have sex with him. There'd always been a part of him that was scared to ask them out, fearing they'd only say yes due to his position as Beta and the Alpha's son. But seeing that familiar determined look was all he needed to know that his dreams were coming true.

(Darlin' was also in shock at what was happening as well. As the Alpha's son, surely David had better options than them? They were proud of who they were and where they came from, but there was always a nagging voice in their brain that told them otherwise. Where David had been raised in white picket fences, Darlin' had been raised surrounded by metal cages. It was no secret that from the way they talked (and how they hid it) to the way they dressed, they were both from fundamentally different worlds.)

(But seeing David with needy eyes and a loving gaze made them feel like they belonged. Actually belonged. And that maybe, home wasn't limited to snowy streets and gray skyscrapers. It could also be in the arms of their best friend.)

Somehow, David was able to find his voice again, and all he whispered was yes, over and over again, while nodding his head vigorously.

Darlin' chuckled at his eagerness, slowly lowering themselves onto him. "What my future Alpha wants, is what he gets," they murmured with a breathless sigh, watching his cock disappear inside of them. They took their time to let themselves adjust to his size before they sank to the base with a sharp inhale, arching their back and digging their nails into his heated skin.

Holy fuck. Holy shit. This was actually happening.

David held his breath as they tightened around him, watching as their eyes squeezed shut in pleasure. That had to be a good thing, right? He hoped it was. Hell, he currently felt like he was on cloud nine and they hadn't even moved yet. How long would he even last?

Oh God, he couldn't come too quickly. That'd be too embarrassing.

He pinched himself, just to make sure that he wasn't stuck in another wet dream. He wasn't. This was very real. And when he felt Darlin' shift around him, he was finally convinced that this was very, very real.

"Ok, I'mma start moving, but—," they began, taking deep breaths to keep their voice steady, “—if you need this to stop…for me to stop, you need to tell me."

David rolled his eyes at their warning, lips parting to retort only for his words to die on his tongue when they held his face in their hands. Darlin’ stared into his eyes, making sure he was staring back before continuing.

"I'm serious, David. You wanna stop? You tell me. Alright?"

He nodded as he swallowed roughly, doing his best to keep his breaths somewhat even. It was hard to focus on anything apart from how well they were taking him and the fact this was only the beginning. His impatience was slowly eating away at him, even more so as he took in the sight of them on top of him like some sort of ethereal god.

David would be more than happy to get on his knees for them again if they ever asked.

“I need to hear you, David. You never had an issue mouthing off before…so use those words of yours. Tell me you understand.”

The urge to bare his teeth was forced down as he cursed under his breath, nodding but adding what they’d been so keen on pulling out of him.

“Yes, yes, I understand,” he groaned, thighs tensing when Darlin’ shifted ever so slightly. They would be the death of him, he was sure of it, but at least it’d be a hell of a way to go. “I’ll tell you what I need and right now I need you to move. So, please—”

A shudder left Darlin’ as they offered a smile that had his pulse stuttering before returning to its concerningly quick pace.

“Good boy.”

David didn't have time to process their praise, too focused on the feeling of them rising and sinking onto his cock without warning. Whether he whimpered or not he'd never admit, their movements lighting a fire in his gut. If this was how he felt when they were taking it slow, he wasn't sure he'd last long with what was no doubt still in store for him.

Giggling at David's reaction, they couldn't help but offer a mocking coo. "Aw, is my little baby close already?" Their words were followed by a shift of their hips, lifting enough until only the tip of him was inside them. This time, there was no hiding the whine that tore from his throat, a smirk growing from their once gentle smile. "I don't know how long you're going to last, Davey. Let's find out, hm?"

It was the only warning he got before Darlin' started moving at a steady pace, moving in slow yet forceful motions. They put enough strength to make sure he felt everything he could have ever dreamed, but slow enough for it to be agonizing, making him beg for more. It was enough to have him writhing on the pool table, one hand gripping onto the edge and the other on their thighs, holding on for dear life.

Pushing up with what strength he could garner, he pressed his lips to their own with a soft groan, arms wrapping around their waist and pulling them closer. He needed their body pressed to him: needed to feel their core so his own could melt into it until only one remained. He had spent so long thinking of what it would be like to have them this way. He'd be a fool not to savour it for as long as he could. "

They stopped, surprised by the kiss. After the initial shock faded, their arms moved around his neck, hands playing with his hair, pressed flush into his chest. Any time they tried to pull away, David would growl, either pulling them back or following their lips to capture them again. He wasn't ready to let go of them. He wasn't sure he'd ever be ready to let go of them again.

Without breaking the kiss, Darlin' started to bounce on his cock, swallowing up any moans from David's mouth. He could barely register the creaking table beneath them, too focused on watching their head roll back, showing off their very kissable neck. God, he wished he had the strength to sit up and bite them. But Darlin's weight on his lap paralyzed him, unable to find the core strength to hold them flush against him. All he could do was grip their hips to hold them steady and keep kissing them. He felt his teeth sharpen, aching to bite them and be bitten by them.

Going off of instincts, he began to thrust up into them, desperately trying to match the pace that they set. "You're so goddamn tight!" He whined while mindlessly fucking them, hands on hips helping them move faster.

"Oh, really Davey?" They asked with a breathless laugh. How Darlin' was able to keep their composure was a mystery to him, especially with the way they tightened even more around him, enough to have him choking out strings of profanities at the sensation. "You close, babyboy?"

He could feel himself closer to the edge, but couldn't form words to say it, losing his sanity with every second that went by. The pool table started to shift in place, moving back with every movement and he couldn't help but fall further into their spell. He relished in the quiet moans that he was able to get out of them, but he wanted more. He wished that they were louder, and craved to have them screaming his name, but he was so focused on his own pleasure that he failed to realize how close he'd become.

"Darlin'- I'm so close-" He choked out between moans, fingers borderline drawing blood from their hips. He felt the unfamiliar washing over him, and he chased it with great desperation. Mindless and borderline feral at the feeling of Darlin' clenching around him, his hips stuttered, the feeling so overwhelming that he couldn't keep a steady pace. His muscles felt tight and he was choking on his rapture, barely able to breathe or speak or move.

It brought him joy to know that Darlin's composure was slowly slipping away, their growls slowly devolving into broken wails. They have always been the picture of composure, not even letting their anger be shown on their face aside from a quiet, cold, fury. He treasured the privilege of seeing them let go of themselves and just feel. Their strong thighs clamped around his hips to keep them both steady, and their nails scratched his chest. He was ready to wear their marks proudly the next day.

"I know, David- shit," they moaned, tilting their head back with their eyes shut. Sweaty and incoherent, he's never seen them more beautiful than at this moment. One where either of them can break at a moment's notice. Even now, they matched David's thrusts, focused on making sure he didn't do all the work and focused on a good first time.

Pleasure and desperation mixing together, David snapped, his core reaching out to grab onto theirs. Blood filled with ecstasy and head ringing with the sound of his moans, he didn't feel the magic that surged through him. It was only when Darlin' screamed, head thrown back and back arching beautifully, that he realized something was wrong.

"FUCK!" they yelled out, their body going limp on top of him and falling backwards. He grabbed onto them and placed them onto his chest, giving each other a chance to breathe before moving. He pushed the hair stuck on their forehead, looking into their dazed eyes. He felt himself falling in love with them all over again.

Careful to not overstimulate either of them, Darlin' pushed themselves off David's chest. He whined, liking and wanting them to stay on his chest for as long as the waves would long for the moon. They rolled their eyes, laughed breathlessly and with a hoarse voice, they asked, "was that good?"

There were no adjectives, verbs, adverbs or descriptors that could describe how that felt, so he supposed 'good' would have to suffice.

David was never a religious man. Sure, he went to church like the good son he was to make his father happy, and he's not above a little prayer to get through a difficult slump. Despite all of that, he could never understand what it meant to have a religious experience, an event that was so miraculous that the only explanation was that a higher power rewrote the fabric of the universe in order to let it happen.

He was convinced that Darlin' was that higher power. The only one he'd worship from here on out.

Feeling his vocal cords functioning again, his strained voice responded. "Was more than good, beautiful," he said while playing with their hair.

"Good, I'm glad," they sighed in relief. "I do have a question…" Their voice trailed off with a little bit of uncertainty.

"What is it?"

"Did you-" they cut themselves with a chuckle. "Did you mean to half-shift in me?"

David's eyes went wide while his mouth spewed out apologies. He knew how painful it can be to have anything inserted into your body, always cringing at those who claim that 6 inches was not enough. But to have one suddenly grow bigger inside of them, even for a split moment, sounded awful.

Given that he was quite a large wolf, even for his young age, it made sense that all parts of his body grew proportionally.

Placing a hand on his chest to calm him down, Darlin' laughed off his concern. "It's fine, I promise. Hurt for a little bit and don't think I'd be down for that again, but it felt really good." Their voice emphasizing the pleasure over the pain eased his nerves, glad that they did like it, unexpected as it was. "Just give me a heads up next time, ok?" They jest with a smile.

So there will be a next time. Yay for him!

"Of course," he said before leaning closer to whisper in their ear. "I'll make sure to shift before I fuck you instead."

They shivered at David's admission. "Don't threaten me with a good time, Shaw," they rolled their eyes before slowly coming off of his lap to sit beside him. David hissed at the loss of contact, out of overstimulation and the desire to keep them close for even longer.

Sitting by his side, they both basked in the familiar silence that accompanied them for their shared lives. Darlin' laid his head on his shoulder and David wrapped an arm around their waist. In many ways, things were the same. Yet everything was different now.

"You should go to bed, David." They rest their chin on his shoulder to look at him. "You must be tired as shit right now." Completely ignoring that they looked like they were going to fall asleep at any moment.

"You're right, I should go to bed." He felt more alive and awake than he ever has, but with the way Darlin' was slumped over, he figured that the best way to get them to bed was to sleep himself.

He picked Darlin' up bridal style, careful to not strain any of their muscles and ignoring the yelp of surprise he gave them.

"What are you doing?" Curiosity and uncertainty filled their voice, yet they buried their face into his chest, slowly dozing off in the process.

"We're both going to bed." Before he could whine in protest, insisting that they weren't tired and could go home in their state, David kicked open the door to their childhood bedroom and laid them on his bed. Running to the bathroom he grabbed a washcloth to clean himself and Darlin' before they headed to bed.

Their eyes tracked his every move, he wondered if he was doing anything wrong. Maybe the cloth was too rough? Or maybe they didn't want to come to his bed?

"You know, I'm supposed to be taking care of you, since this is you're the virgin- excuse me, ex-virgin," they snarked from the bed.

He flicked their forehead at their comment. "Shut up and let yourself be cared for, you stubborn dick." He grabbed a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants for the both of them, throwing Darlin's set at their face and laughing at their exasperated expression. But it didn't stop them from putting his clothes on.

The sight of Darlin' in his clothes and dozing off in his bed, his scent mixing with his, was enough to make his wolf go feral. He's no stranger to the hardships Darlin' faced in their life, always concerned for when they went after the shady people they called family. Sure, it was clear they cared for them, but if they really loved Darlin', they wouldn't drag them into such dangerous situations.

It wasn't in them to say no to a friend's request though, so David supposed that he may have to be the one to keep them safe.

(Realistically, he knew Darlin' would hate that. The idea of another person making their decisions and dragging David into a danger he had no reason to be involved in would eat them alive. But forgive him, he's a boy - nay, a man - in love trying to keep his future mate alive long enough to call them his mate. You can't really do that with a dead person, despite other's insistence.)

Clothes on, he slipped beside Darlin'. Immediately, they moved back to give him space, much to his chagrin. He pulled them against his chest, a hand behind their neck to keep them close. "You just sent me to heaven and back, and now you won't cuddle with me?" Resting his chin on top of their head, he finished his thought with a laugh. "Rude."

He expected a snarky comment back from them, maybe a joke about how he was an asshole. He didn't expect brutal honesty from them.

"I didn't think you'd want to." Their voice was muffled from being pressed against David's chest, but he could still hear the apprehension in their words. He held them tighter, hopefully conveying to their stubborn brain that he did want them with him.

They fought back against his hold to look him in his eyes. "Most people don't really want to cuddle after fucking," they huffed and it filled David with anger. Who in their right mind would be blessed with the chance to sleep next to them, only to throw it away because they got what they wanted? How many times did Darlin' want to be comforted only to feel used like a toy?

He shook his head of those thoughts. It didn't matter anymore, he'd hold them for as long as they asked for it.

"Well I want you, Darlin'." His arms pushed them back into his heart. Before they could pointlessly argue, he gently scratched their scalp. Just as he thought, their breathing slowed down and head went limp against his pillow. "Now shut up and go to sleep," he chided with love and care.

They couldn't go to sleep without having a final word.

"Are we," they yawned and rubbed their eyes, "are we… a thing?"

With conviction, he corrected them. "We're more than just a thing, Darlin'. But don't worry about that now." Yawning himself, he laid his head on his pillow and almost knocked out immediately. He was able to hear the last thing they said before succumbing to dreams.

"...love you, David."

'I love you too, Darlin'.'

–

He's a little concerned by the clothes left behind in his living room. Not because David shouldn't be having sex at his age, but because they couldn't have at least cleaned up after themselves? Really?

Carefully walking around the living room to not wake up the younger wolves, he headed to the kitchen to make some food for the two. Knowing those fools, they haven't eaten anything all day, being too busy with other things to remember to eat. Something small would be enough to get them some energy back.

He passed by the pool table, noticing the blanket on top of it. He feared the worst, not wanting to imagine what had happened there earlier. The scratches were too noticeable and the wobbly leg made it all too true. Great, he'll need to call the carpenter to fix the table. Or build him a new one.

It looked like someone else had the same idea, watching David roll out some dough. Love is stored in the pupusa indeed.

"You remember to replace the pork with beef, right?" His voice spooked his son, amused at him jumping 10 feet in the air. It was a little concerning to see him so unaware of his surroundings, it was because it was out of love. Sue him, he's happy that his son is happy.

"Yeah- yeah, I did." David kept his head turned away from Gabe, most likely out of embarrassment of being caught.

Satisfied by his answer, he leaned back to observe his son. David seldom cooked, citing a lack of time and energy to do so. That didn't mean that he didn't know the basic recipes, he just never made them. Not that Gabe ever minded, he was always happy to cook for his son. But of course, he'd pick up the knife for Darlin', especially since they could cook up a mean meal whenever they felt like it.

There was another thing that was off. David's hoodie wasn't his. Sure it fit him perfectly, but last time he checked, he went to high school in Dahlia, their mascot was not the Eagles.

"Who's hoodie is that?" He was curious to see where this went, and whether David knew what he was wearing.

David turned back to his father for the first time, looking at him with a confused stare.

"It's mine, obviously…" His voice trailed off when he looked down, realizing his mistake. David went to Dahlia Collegiate and Technical Institute, and their mascot was the Dire Wolves. He should remember considering how many jokes were made at the pack's expense.

While Darlin' did graduate from DCTI, that wasn't their first high school. Their old school's mascot did happen to be an eagle… And they did like their clothes on the bigger side…

Gabe laughed, watching realization cross his son's face. When before he had some plausible deniability, now it was outright obvious what they had done. Finally.

He walked to David and patted him on the back. "There's nothing to be ashamed about, and I know how long you've been in love with them." He decided not to reveal Darlin's feelings just in case they hadn't confessed yet. Knowing these two, they've probably gone to bed before telling each other how they feel.

David's shoulder slumped at his father's words. "I know, I know, but I just," he sighed, defeated by his own emotions. "I just don't want to fuck up with them."

"And you won't," Gabe reassured. "You're a good man who wants to do right by them. As long as you follow your heart, you won't mess anything up."

David groaned at the advice. "That's easier said than done," he pointed out. For David, making rational decisions with his head always trumped going with his heart, but unfortunately, love doesn't follow the rules and logic of rationality.

"You need to understand that when it comes to love, neither of you can control everything. A relationship is give and take, sometimes you're in control, sometimes you're not. It's scary, and I know for both of you this sounds like the worst thing ever. But you owe it to each other to at least try."

The crockpot alarm goes off. "Are you willing to see Darlin' happy with someone else?"

He could see the alarms go off in David. "No-"

"Then try," he pleaded with David. "You both are good for each other. And you both deserve good things."

Walking past David to the crockpot to see if the beef had been cooked properly, he waited for David to come to his own conclusion. It can be tempting to spell out the answers, especially when it's as obvious as this is. But as a father and as Alpha, he needs to make sure that David can make his own decisions and live with those consequences.

Gabe won't be around forever, and he needed to learn how to be his own man.

Silently joining him, David goes back to rolling out the dough. The determined look on his face was his answer, and he can't wait to see where it will lead.

He leaned over to whisper in David's ear.

"Can you please clean up after yourselves next time? I don't want to see your dirty clothes all over the living room."

Gabe's laughter at the expense of David's humiliation was loud enough to wake Darlin' from his bed.

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redacted fanfic #redacted david #redacted darlin #david/darlin #THE SMUT IS HERE!!!#which means minor pleasee leave!!!#everyone else #enjoyyyy #zo writes tingz #this is zo speaking

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smalltowncryptidfucker · 3 days

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Thinking about how Edward and Ling are probably just as touch starved as each other, but in like, vastly different ways.

With Edward- based off what I can tell- the only people he knew he could be physically affectionate with in any way, was his mother and Alphonse.

(Not to say Winry and Pinako aren’t affectionate with the boys, but I feel like being physically affectionate isn’t something that comes naturally to either of them. They seem like they prefer acts of service as a way of showing how much they care more than anything, and I think that’s wonderful! Even after the Elric brothers pretty much decided to kiss their hometown goodbye, the relationship they have with the Rockbells is still strong enough to where they know they can rely on them for anything, which is very important.)

But it really sucks, because their mom is long gone, and Alphonse, while he’s still around, no longer has a body. He’s a soul bound to a suit of armor, and he can’t feel anything. And I’m sure that Alphonse is still as physically affectionate with Edward as he can be with the body he has, but the unfortunate truth of the matter is, that if he isn’t careful, he might accidentally injure Edward. And I’m sure that terrifies him more than anything. Alphonse is so kind, gentle and loving, and the idea of hurting his brother by accident, or otherwise would devastate him. So he keeps Edward at arms’ length, just so he doesn’t get hurt.

Whereas with Ling, there isn’t much about his background that we know canonically (that I can recall- if any of you know something, feel free to add on), but considering the fact that he was conceived by the emperor and a noblewoman for the sole purpose of being a potential heir to the throne, and nothing else, I don’t think his childhood was filled with much genuine affection.

I’m sure he was treated well, but there’s a difference between actual love and care for a child, and the pretty much forced respect for the potential heir to a throne. His days were filled with constant training and education to prepare him to run a country, and typically with characters like him, they usually are fed some sort of BS akin to “showing/receiving affection is a form of weakness,” and “don’t get attached to anyone, or you’ll lose everything”. Stuff like that. And not to project headcanons onto a character that no one has seen in canon, but I’m sure Ling’s mother saw her son as more of a way to get more power, than an actual family member. Again, could be wrong, but considering the fact that the emperor produces heirs by just… going to the “best” noble families of each clan in his kingdom to ensure his bloodline is “pure” or some shit, that blatant disregard for family is probably the norm for anyone in power in Xing.

And I know that Lan Fan and Fu do genuinely love and care for Ling, but at the end of the day, they’re his bodyguards. Their relationship is purely professional, and they all know that if they overstep those boundaries, that could spell the end for them. They have to keep him at arms’ length to ensure their survival.

Basically, what I’m saying is, Ling has probably never received a sincere hug his entire god damn life.

So, I’m just thinking that the first time they hug or hold hands or some shit, they’re both so nervous, because Edward hasn’t been held in so long, and Ling doesn’t know what to expect, but then they both just melt into each other.

TL;DR: Ed and Ling share the same amount of touch-starvation, but physical affection was ripped away from Edward, and Ling was never provided any to begin with. They should clearly join forces.

#i’m really emotional about them #fma #fmab #edward elric #ling yao #edling #fma headcanon #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #fullmetal alchemist

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feyhunter78 · 18 hours

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Chapter Three - Your father has taken notice of your blossoming interest in a certain dark-haired northerner.

“The boy is looking at you again.” Your father drawls, moving his elephant across the cyvasse board with disinterest.

You take a sip of your wine and hum in response, moving one of your trebuchets forward.

He clicks his tongue. “Bad move, little lion, that leaves me free to attack your king.”

You glance at the board and curse internally; you have been far too distracted by Jon’s barely subtle stares to properly play the game. “Perhaps I am simply letting you win, you are getting older, Father, it is only the kind thing to do.”

Your father raises an eyebrow and delivers his final move. “Ah yes, it is kindness that distracts you, not the strapping lad who seems he will burst into flames if he does not look at you every three seconds.”

You glance over at Jon, who swiftly turns his attention back to Arya, correcting her stance out in the training yard, the ground freshly cleared of snow.

You and your father have taken a seat on one of the benches within one of the entrances to the guest chambers that spills out into the yard. It’s the perfect mixture between the warmth inside and the crisp morning air outside.

“I have not the faintest idea what you speak of.” You say, popping a grape into your mouth and chewing slowly, trying to hide your smile from your father.

He sighs and shakes his head. “All those years spent teaching you to mask your emotions, to have the perfect expression that never reveals anything, gone with the simple presence of a dark-haired northern boy who does naught by train and brood.”

“He reads as well.” You say, unable to stop yourself from defending Jon.

“Oh, does he now? Someone send word to the Grand Maester, we have found his newest acolyte.” He snorts, taking a drink from his glass.

You wrinkle your nose in response. “You are quite humorous, Father, truly you could put the court fool out of a job.”

He sets his wine down and heaves a heavy sigh. “You know I only ever wish for your happiness.”

“Yes, it is why you are my favorite father in the whole continent.” You smile teasingly, pulling your cloak closer around you as the wind picks up.

“But he is a bastard—”

“You said all dwarves are bastards in their father’s eyes, and yet you are still a man worth respect and titles.” You cut in, surprising even yourself with your outburst.

“Y/N.” Your father says sternly, laying his hands flat on the table.

You duck your head. “Sorry, Father.”

“He is a bastard, he cannot be your husband, a lover, or a guard, yes, but not a husband. If we were not Lannisters, if our house was not as it was, then perhaps it would be allowed. Gods know I do not wish to force you into a marriage you despise, but you are still a lady, still have the potential to win over great victories for our family.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, turning his words over in your mind. “Are you suggesting I proposition him, like Queen Rhaenyra did Ser Criston Cole?”

“I am not suggesting anything, I do not wish to think of my only daughter as a lady grown, but if you must follow Queen Rhaenyra’s footsteps…perhaps it is a Lord Harwin Strong you should seek instead.” His tone is careful, teetering the line between fatherly advice and the words of a Lannister.

You toy with the edges of your cloak. “Jon cares much for his honor, it would be shameful to even ask him such a thing.”

Your father’s hand covers your own. “That bleeding heart of yours, it comes straight from your mother.”

You smile. “And you, as well, do not downplay your kindness. An unkind father would have shipped me off to the richest man who asked for my hand the moment I first bled.”

He shivers in disgust at the thought.

Your eyes drift over to Jon and Arya, the latter who has been distracted by the appearance of Sansa and Joffrey.

“Perhaps a guard then, you could do worse than a guard you have grown alongside, it breeds loyalty.” Your father muses, watching how Jon shifts to put himself between Arya and Joffrey.

You cringe when Joffrey challenges Jon to a playful duel, ignoring your father’s words. “This will not go well.”

“Perhaps it will be good for your cousin’s ego to be beaten into the ground by someone he deems below him.”

You meet your father’s eyes and you both burst into laughter.

“Y/N, Uncle, stop laughing and come, all must witness this display of skill.” Joffrey calls, beckoning you both over.

“I cannot, Nephew, I must meet with your Uncle Jaime.” Your father calls back, hopping down from the bench.

“Father.” You hiss, silently begging him not to leave you with Joffrey.

He pats your hand. “You will be fine, stiff upper lip, little lion, remember?”

You groan and pout at him, but he shoos you forward.

Sansa crushes your hand as you watch Jon and Jeffrey spar, it’s clear Jon is holding back, you’ve seen him training, he puts more effort into hitting the dummies than he does attempt to hit Joffrey.

“Should you not cheer for your cousin?” Sansa asks.

The thought had never crossed your mind, and now it made your stomach turn. “I would not want to break his concentration.” You say gracefully, trying to keep your eyes on the clashing swords and not Jon.

“Who cares?” Arya cheers, “Go Jon, knock him flat.”

Jon flashes her a smile, one born of confidence and the rush of near victory, and your heart skips a beat. For a moment, you can imagine him competing in a tourney. His polished armor flashing in the sun, ripping his helmet off and letting it fall to the ground, his curls set free as he directs that smile towards you, the crown of roses in his hand naming you his Queen of Love and Beauty.

“Good work, My Prince, hit him hard.” Sansa cheers in direct opposition of her sister.

Joffrey turns towards Sansa, basking in her praise. A fatal mistake, his distraction allows Jon to knock him to the ground.

The action rips a gasp from you, not many aside from your Uncle Jaime would dare to knock Joffrey off his feet.

Your cousin lies there stunned, then he darts up, sputtering, his face turning red as he hurls insults at Jon, before storming off, Sansa jumping up to follow after him.

You catch her arm. “Lady Sansa, I would leave him to his solitude, my cousin is not fond of sharing in his embarrassment.”

Sansa looks as if she wishes to argue, but relents and turns to scold Arya for her cheering.

Jon’s gaze falls upon you, he hasn’t even broken a sweat, his eyes the color of a winter storm in the sunlight.

Perhaps a guard then. Your father’s words echo in your mind. You didn’t need to follow in Queen Rhaenyra’s footsteps, you could follow in Queen Alicent’s. Your maester had spoken of the pure and courtly bond between her and Ser Criston Cole when you were young, and you had been enraptured by the devotion Ser Cole had to his queen.

“Well done, Lord Jon.” You say, giving him a smile and a slight nod of your head as you take a step forward, then another until you are standing before him. Then you lean in, “though I would not have protested if you bruised his jaw when you knocked him flat.”

A slight smile tugs at Jon’s lips, and your eyes dart down to them.

He sucks in a breath, then takes a step back, putting more space between you, an overly appropriate amount of space. “Thank you, Lady Lannister.”

“Y/N, or if we must use titles, Lady y/n.”

Jon swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his pale throat. He has a nice throat, well-formed, pale with a smattering of dark stubble where it meets his chin. He must be freshly shaved, there’s a slight nick near his right ear.

You must get a hold of yourself, a nice throat? Y/N, you are shameful. You chastise yourself internally, tearing your eyes from him.

“As you wish, Lady y/n.” He whispers, his voice nearly stolen by the wind.

Jon TL: @mostclevermiss

#meg's writing #jon snow x you #jon snow x reader #jon snow x oc #jon snow imagines #jon snow imagine #jon snow #lannister!reader #tyrion lannister #tyrion is such a good dad #got fanfiction #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones #asoiaf #asoif fanfic

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kateis-cakeis · 3 months

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rewatching bbc merlin really has me like buzzing in my mind with so many thoughts. Like I'm kinda watching it backwards atm going from S5 to S4, I think I will jump around 3, 2, and 1 but just,,,, there is so much especially in S5 that makes me !!!!!!!

Honestly, I feel like this fandom has to give the writers more credit. Like they did a damn good job, and to me, it's such a good tragedy. Especially how S5 plays out, it takes everything and just tears you down, and down, and down. It's perfect, perfect with flaws! But still perfect

#bbc merlin #merlin #yeah idk on that note about the writers - this fandom is way too harsh #like i know we all have ideas on how it should have gone #but i think we lose how it's still a story that they planned from the start to end like that #they did their job they set up from the beginning and it is good as a tragedy imo as someone who has studied tragedies #hot take but the characterisations are consistent - i mean like as consistent as they get for a 5 series show #they did better than most and i dont feel like any characters get like their previous characterisation assassinated #that includes Arthur and Morgana btw they clearly have arcs that work well and where Arthur's is a slower progression - Morgana's is like a #lit match - slow at first but when it gets going it's going and then gone - it's wonderful #i mean look at s5 it literally starts by talking about Arthur's bane aka his fatal flaw aka his hamartia #which is himself and i dont think it's as much as the overdone hubris but rather Arthur's love and trust for others - but that like in many #tragedies can be debated #okay something else that can be debated is the peripeteia - i think a good example of it is the Disir episode because that's when Arthur's #fate becomes sealed anything after that point is fruitless because the Triple Goddess has decided he must die because of his rejection of #the Old Religion - it's a reversal of fortune in a sense that Mordred is alive to play his part in Arthur's death - as Merlin puts it. You #could see it more as Merlin's peripeteia rather than Arthur's but still #if we wanna debate it more Arthur's peripeteia would probablyyyy be when Mordred stabs him because that's when his death becomes imminent #it's a reversal of fortune because he's dying from that point forward rather than a strong king he is a man dying #the anagnorisis is another point to make. You could say for Arthur his anagnorisis is all of the finale - like this constant realisation of #Merlin and his magic and realising all that he missed all that he didnt see and now it's too late because he's dying #I'd say Merlin's anagnorisis comes with the whole Mordred and Kara ordeal and how he realises his mistake and how it's gonna cause the #downfall of not just himself but Arthur too #then catharsis - see i think it's the only part where the tragedy falters because do we get catharsis from Arthur's death and Merlin's #immortality - where he's still at the lake centuries later?#i think in some ways yes and in other ways no because I don't think BBC Merlin is following an Aristotle's tragedy #i think catharsis comes more from Morgana's half of the tragedy - seeing her die - and i think further catharsis comes from knowing it's no #over forever that there will be a second chance for redemption for both Merlin and Arthur #but it is a more difficult one for sure #anyway point is that S5 specifically has a tragedy storyline that is very well done and we should credit that more tbh

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cnl0400 · 4 months

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I understand why they didn't introduce Michael in the past but I think we needed more people suspecting MC was Not From Here™, they should have played More with the idea that anybody could unmask MC/Solomon true motives and Michael already knew, It would have been better for him taunting MC with the idea of telling the truth to everyones else unless they stop making pacts with the brothers (Bcuz y'know, thats what Nightbringer wants, Right? And whatever he wants must be... Not good?)

In earlier seasons the tease the idea of two Rings of Light existing in the same timeline, can you imagine the interactions?

Michael: Wow MC! that's a pretty ring you have there!

MC: ... Yeah...

Michael: It looks identical to the one I have here, see? *Flashes His own Ring of Light to MC*

MC: Ah... *Gulp*

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #see I don't like how everyone believes that MC is just a normal human from the human world and nobody questions this #Like I know Barbatos has his moments when he's like 'I know what you are ;) '#but It's not like he's did give you away to Diavolo or anything. so it feels a bit pointless #I wish they gave more tension with this Idea... like they could catch you if you messed up too much with the timeline #like I want people breathing down my neck... Barbatos. Michael. Nightbringer IDC I just want the tension #this post was in my drafts for a long time for like a theory post but like... we're already back in the present... it's pointless now #feel like if they wanted to do time travel fuckery they should have gone all the way. go crazy idc...#we should have seen two solomons. maybe that'll fix me

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lgbtlunaverse · 5 months

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I don't think we talk about xiyao exes to lovers enough. I understand that in canon the "breakup" ended with death and imo it was never going to end any other way (I have a lot of feelings about how jgy is doomed from the start) but even in aus where survival is an option I barely ever see their full potential realized. The fact that there is this heartbreaking gap that is between them now, and yet that, despite it all, they can't stop loving each other. When you have drama this good, why is the conflict relegated to outside threats and we end up with little to no exploration of internal strife, of the fact that these guys have been living a domestic lie for a decade (I cannot stress this enough, the amount of parralels between xiyao and jgy's marriage to qin su are staggering.)

And let me be clear I will NEVER begrudge anyone their hurt/comfort and wanting their faves who are denied happiness and peace at every turn to find it. god knows I need that sometimes. Or even the less healthy but so emotionally devastating fics where the caring isn't good, and it doesn't fix anything- might only make things worse, actually- and xichen ends up recreating his father's fate. I love all of those things. But. Man. This divorce was over 11 years in the making it should take AT LEAST that long to resolve. What do you do when the person you trusted the most lied to you for years? What do you do when the only person who's ever believed in you loses that faith so completely they'd hurt you over a lie without hesitation? I need me some xiyao who try to get over each other for 20 years and fail. I need them to meet after not seeing each other for years and have it hurt like no time has passed at all. I need arguments where no one raises their voice but that feel like a screaming match anyway. Do you see my vision?? Do you see what we could have?

(if fics that do exacly this are out there, recs are of course welcome)

#mdzs #meng yao #xiyao #lan xichen #jin guangyao #rs: i wish it could've been you #this might make some people really mad #at the idea that jgy has any right to have grievances with xichen but uh...#i'm not interested in arguing with jgy antis. go scream at a wall #or a different camp who DO like xiyao but who are like 'but xichen was lied to jgy wouldn't blame him'#the fact that it was a lie makes it WORSE you guys know that right?#some of you have never been the proverbial boy who cried wolf #and had people assume everything you say is a lie because you've lied in the past #and good for you! You SHOULD be honest with those you love i'm very happy for all of you #but also. lmao. you have no idea how that feels.#i have read aus where they break up and get back together of course #but i always end up feeling like people see the conflict as an obstacle? a thing to get past so we can get them back together #and not.. you know. the most interesting part. the selling point #I think in a slightly lower stakes au xiyao should wait a few years get back together because they love each other and then break up AGAIN #when they realize that the old relationship they had with that easy trust is gone forever. love isn't enough to bring that back #you can build something new. including a new kind of trust just as potent. but that old easy kind is gone.#and i think they should try to get it back because it was the best thing they ever had #and get fucked up about it when they realize they can't #and it should take them well over a decade to mourn it until they're ready to let it go and try to make something new of it #PLEASE let me talk about the xichen qin su parralels please let me talk about how rusong is nmj-coded #not in personality but in the function he has narratively as someone that can never stop haunting jgy.#the fact that nmj's death and rusong's birth were likely extremely close to each other timeline wise LET'S TALK ABOUT IT

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coldflasher · 5 months

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the flash should have ended with barry quitting his job at ccpd to become a stay-at-home husband and that's on that

#the fun part is it genuinely could have ended like that. i have no idea. still haven't watched it #NOBODY TELL ME BTW #THAT IS NOT ME ASKING FOR SPOILERS. I'LL GET TO IT #but honestly it's the only thing that makes sense. i have genuine reasons for this #namely: how the fuck is iris. an incredible but ordinary non-speedster woman. meant to look after a baby speedster #ordinary babies are already making it their life's mission to die. eating shit they shouldn't. rolling over and suffocating.#idk i don't know about kids but i know babies are breakable and will roll off tables and god knows what else #now imagine you have a toddler and she can literally move at hundreds of miles per hour #how the fuck was iris meant to cope?#i still maintain that when they did the 'she put a power dampener in nora' plot it should have been like. not a control thing #but also yeah. literally a control thing because HOW THE FUCK ELSE WAS SHE MEANT TO LOOK AFTER HER BABY #if barry is gone and she's a single mother. assuming no other speedsters are around to help her. what the fuck else was she meant to do?#of course she had to suppress her powers because how can you stop your toddler running into traffic if she can run 1000 times faster than u #how do you keep her in her crib at night if she can phase through the bars?#in that sense. yeah it's fucked up. but you can understand it. you can empathize. what other options did she have?#so yeah stay-at-home dad barry is the only thing that makes sense for genuine safety reasons #he is quite literally the only one who can keep up with the kids #they dropped the ball on nora is all i'm saying. again. fic that lives in my head where original nora's death actually means something #and we get a new nora who is ACTUALLY a different person. as she would be considering her whole upbringing was different #and she has to somehow live up to the memory of a version of her that was erased from time #part of barry and iris can't accept that that specific version of their daughter is gone and it's not her #THE ANGST POTENTIALLLL #in my head she doesn't even go by nora because she's like. THAT'S NOT ME. SHE DIED. WHY CAN'T YOU ACCEPT WHO I AM AND LOVE ME FOR ME #she goes by dawn bc yeah im still kinda sad they didnt use that name #fictional characters give ur kid an original name instead of always naming them after dead ppl challenge #my fics #my meta

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lecliss · 3 months

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I've still been fucked up ever since I found out that(according to an actually plausible timeline), Konoha has only existed for like 90-something or whatever years??? It's not like. Fucking 200 years old or whatever. And that Madara died when he was 74 but he had himself hooked up to, fuckin what was it??? The Gedo statue?? A tree?? Whatever. In order to keep himself alive and you look at him all old and crusty and think he's like. Over a hundred at least. But no, that man's 74. He's just an average fucking grandpa!!! And Hashirama had been dead for a LONG while, so he actually died pretty young all things considered. And that also means Mito died like. Fuckin. I'm guesstimating here but in her 60s I guess???? But it's a significant thing that the Uzumakis have longer than average lifespans so like. What the fuck is the average life expectancy in Naruto for this bullshit to make sense???

#ever since i found out mada died at 74 ive been thinking those obi grandpa theories/allegations could actually be true #cuz doesnt he actually call obi his descendant at one point or something??? i mean i do think he meant that metaphorically #but at that age it actually could be possible #mada just woulda had to have a kid later than hashi did to make sense of the age difference between obi and tsun@de #and his grandma from the anime isnt canon so we can discount her in this equation #still fucked up tho over all hidden villages therefore being younger than a century #i think in my head it just feels like kages should be kages from like. their 20s or whenever the get the position #to like. their 70s or 80s or whenever they die #ya know like hiruzen made it to 68 i think??? and only died cuz of oro #but then again he did step down for mina like. 15 whatever years ago if were using 12yo nart for comparison #so going by 'they have the position for like a couple decades. maybe 2 MAYBE 3 then pass it on to someone else'#yeah it would then make sense for konoha to be on kage number 5 within a century #it just. doesnt really occur to me i guess. am i the only one fucked up by realizing this??? or has it always been obvious to everyone else?#granted when i was a kid i was ALWAYS so confused by how there could be a 4th hokage when the current guy is called the 3rd #i just never picked up on the idea that the 3rd returned to the position when the 4th died lmao #so yeah of course this has always gone right over my head #personal

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opens-up-4-nobody · 1 year

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...

#ay ay ay. my head feels like its stuffed completely full of cotton. bulging at the seems #its just that wrung out ive been crying too much feel. i just had to do a bunch of application stuff yesterday night #and there were way too many tears so i work up out of focus with salt in my eyelashes. so i wasnt that productive despite the fact i really #need to b rn. and i met with my boss for our weekly meeting and its just so many things i have to do #like theres this procedure for some new equipment we have and im testing it out but like she wants to see it in action and im like treading #close to dangerously unstable so the chances i burst into tears in public is quite high which is why i hide in my apartment and only go to #the lab when no ones there. but no im prob gonna have to go in Thursday and have to go drive like and hr away next week so we can hopefully #have all the equipment we need for another project thats gonna kill me. plus we got contacted by a group we were gonna work with last year #who wanna work with us again. which is objectively good like itll look real good on a cv to b involved and like even non science ppl would #prob find it cool. but i csnt feel any of that bc i dont kno how im gonna be able to go back and forth contacting the other lab group i #have to work with in order to do everything. which its like itll b fine #ive done it before. 2 of the 3 things i have done before so itll be fine. it just doesn't feel like it #it feels like im dissolving into pieces and everythings spinning too fast. theres a film between myself and everything else so i cant touch #anything and it cant touch me.#and its weird bc i know that burning myself out is what got me here but i still cant detatch myself from the soul crushing guilt of not #making every second productive. its disorienting bc my brain will b like: u should just stay here over break and get stuff done #and like no. thats objectively the worst thing i could possibly do. i just feel like a wet glob of paper towels. ive already committed #myself to only 13 days being gone. only have to trudge through like 21 days 1st. how? no idea #like im sure itll b fine but somethings gotta give before my brain implodes beyond repair. if were not there already #ay everytime my boss says something nice abt me to someone it just feels like a knife in the gut. like shes not lying but i just feel like #ive fallen so far that shes talking abt a past verson of me and it makes me sad. like idk how obvious it is but im sure i have terrible #vibes irl lol like the sort of pained twisted up little smiles u make when u dont wanna lie but u dont wanna b honest ay #itll b fine. i can feel the floorboards giving way so somethings close to giving just have to see where and in what form the metaphor #actulizes. hopefully it does so quickly bc im bored and tired of living like this. and i dont really wanna go home and explode into tears #like a child and have my parents deal with me. which they would bc theyre great. i just dont wanna worry them sigh...#unrelated #i should sleep bc i gotta get up and burn my brain out being a scribe tomorrow morning. at least i get to hang out with someone cool

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theculturedmarxist · 2 years

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>First, we’ve discovered that about a quarter of all the internet connection in or out of the house were ad related. In a few hours, that’s about 10,000 out of 40,000 processed.

>We also discovered that every link on Twitter was blocked. This was solved by whitelisting the https://t.co domain.

>Once out browsing the Web, everything is loading pretty much instantly. It turns out most of that Page Loading malarkey we’ve been accustomed to is related to sites running auctions to sell Ad space to show you before the page loads. All gone now.

>We then found that the Samsung TV (which I really like) is very fond of yapping all about itself to Samsung HQ. All stopped now. No sign of any breakages in its function, so I’m happy enough with that.

>The primary source of distress came from the habitual Lemmings player in the house, who found they could no longer watch ads to build up their in-app gold. A workaround is being considered for this.

>The next ambition is to advance the Ad blocking so that it seamlessly removed YouTube Ads. This is the subject of ongoing research, and tinkering continues. All in all, a very successful experiment.

>Certainly this exceeds my equivalent childhood project of disassembling and assembling our rotary dial telephone. A project whose only utility was finding out how to make the phone ring when nobody was calling.

>Update: All4 on the telly appears not to have any ads any more. Goodbye Arnold Clarke!

>Lemmings problem now solved.

>Can confirm, after small tests, that RTÉ Player ads are now gone and the player on the phone is now just delivering swift, ad free streams at first click.

>Some queries along the lines of “Are you not stealing the internet?” Firstly, this is my network, so I may set it up as I please (or, you know, my son can do it and I can give him a stupid thumbs up in response). But there is a wider question, based on the ads=internet model.

>I’m afraid I passed the You Wouldn’t Download A Car point back when I first installed ad-blocking plug-ins on a browser. But consider my chatty TV. Individual consumer choice is not the method of addressing pervasive commercial surveillance.

>Should I feel morally obliged not to mute the TV when the ads come on? No, this is a standing tension- a clash of interests. But I think my interest in my family not being under intrusive or covert surveillance at home is superior to the ad company’s wish to profile them.

>Aside: 24 hours of Pi Hole stats suggests that Samsung TVs are very chatty. 14,170 chats a day.

>YouTube blocking seems difficult, as the ads usually come from the same domain as the videos. Haven’t tried it, but all of the content can also be delivered from a no-cookies version of the YouTube domain, which doesn’t have the ads. I have asked my son to poke at that idea.

#samsung #privacy #surveillance #pi hole #raspberry pi #internet #adblock #adbusting #youtube #twitter thread #pihole

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theragethatisdesire · 10 months

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scary dog privilege - best friend!eren x reader one-shot, 18+!!

hellooooo i have had this in my wips for like two entire months and i am giddy and ready to share it. this hopefully will just be a one-shot, but you guys know i love to create a universe for each of my erens so god only knows where we'll end up with this one. best friend eren appears to be my angstiest, broodiest one yet, and i love him lol. wanted to make some use of classic fanfic tropes, so here we get best friend eren and fake dating!! woohoo!!

beware: this is absolute, pure filth once you get into it lol

pairing: eren jaeger x afab reader

wc: 9.1k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut, consensual hook-up, rough sex, biting, dirty talk, oral sex (fem!receiving), alcohol use, cussing, squirting, penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, use of names (baby, pretty baby, my girl), crying, multiple orgasms, eren being a menace per usual, jean's an asshole (i'm so sorry you guys know i love him but it had to happen)

have fun ;)

This is a terrible idea, and it had been from the start. You know it and so does he, but you had insisted. Now that you’ve made your bed, you have to lay in it, you suppose. You press your forehead to the cold, tinted window of Eren’s ridiculous muscle car, ignoring the vibrations from the rock music he’s blaring and the consistent fluttering in your stomach, and think back to your conversation earlier that week.

“Come on, Eren. It’s just one night!”

“And what about after? When you run into Sasha at the coffee place or Armin after work? Did we just suddenly ‘break up’?” Eren scoffs, pushing past you to grab a Red Bull out of the fridge. You collapse into one of the barstools in his kitchen, having prepared yourself to accept defeat from the moment you posed the question.

“I just can’t face him alone,” you sigh, “it’s only been four months and Sasha told me he’s hooked up with not one, not two, but three girls already. I haven’t even had a drunken makeout at the bar.”

“So? Just because Jean’s been whoring around doesn’t mean you have anything to prove.” Eren's tone is thoroughly unimpressed as he pops the tab to his energy drink.

“You’re my best friend. I just need one tiny favor.”

“Who would even believe us? It’s not like it’s a huge party- we know everyone going.”

You cock an eyebrow. “How many times have Annie and Mikasa tried to con us into a double date? Connie’s been teasing us for years, not to mention the waiter at lunch the other day–”

“Fine!”

“Fine?”

“Fine. I’ll be your date for one night. But all of the explaining is up to you. And,” Eren takes a sip, leveling a glare at you over the top of the can, “I’m going on the record as saying that this is a bad idea.”

He may be reckless, arrogant, and a bit of a brat, but if Eren Jaeger is one thing consistently, he was right. You chance a glance at your “date”. He’s in his typical uniform: black hoodie, black jeans, the little silver chain he never takes off, key swinging over his chest as he turns the car. He looks good, appealing even. If Jean dares to show up with a girl, she won’t consider you to have downgraded, that’s for sure.

You consider your own outfit, an anxious fist tightening in your stomach at the thought of seeing Jean for the first time as an ex. He would have hated it. Your nothing-to-the-imagination outfit is all thanks to Sasha.

You had clued Sasha in on the plan; you hoped having one more agent in on your secret would help sell the act. Sasha had gone all out, lending you an incredibly low-cut black top and some black leather pants that would have caused at least a twenty-minute argument with Jean. Had he not dumped you, you remind yourself bitterly. Sasha had insisted you borrow her all-black outfit to match Eren’s typical attire “just to be cute”. In hindsight, her enthusiasm about this whole situation should have been a red flag, but you’ve already gotten everything lined up, and it’s too late for regret.

It’s far too late for hindsight, too; you’re already ten minutes into receiving the official girlfriend treatment from Eren. He had worn you down on picking you up, opening the car door, the works. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled out a bouquet of roses at this point. You can hear his obnoxious tone now: Even if you’re my fake girlfriend, you’re getting the full package. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

Eren parallel parks smoothly on Armin’s quiet street, unusually busy with the buzz of a house party and lined with your friends’ cars. It’s Connie’s birthday, but Armin always hosts. It’s an unspoken rule at this point; you aren’t sure why he keeps volunteering, especially after Sasha had projectile vomited all over his bathroom at the last get-together, but again, dig your own grave and lie in it. You and Armin are in the same boat there.

When the car switches off, Eren takes a moment to consider you, wrapping and unwrapping his long fingers around the steering wheel, a nervous tic he’s had since high school. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you sigh, reaching for the door handle. Before you can wrap your hand around it, Eren leans over and pinches you harshly on the thigh. “Ow!”

“I open the door, remember?” Eren says, visibly annoyed.

You roll your eyes at him.“Isn’t this a bit much?”

“You think I’m going to be caught dead letting my ‘girlfriend’ open her own door? I have a reputation to uphold.”

You decide to bite back a snippy comment about the many girls who cried over Eren in college and cross your arms over your chest, pouting instead. “Fine.”

If Eren can be dramatic, so can you.

As naturally as if he had done it a hundred times, Eren slings his arm over your shoulders on the walk up towards the door; the weight of it, both physically and mentally, is heavier than you’re willing to acknowledge. When you catch sight of Bertholdt, Reiner, and Annie peering through the window, a flutter of nerves erupts your stomach; you reach a hand up to play with Eren’s fingers, absentmindedly spinning one of his rings and trying to sell the look as best you can. “We better pull this off.”

“It’ll be fine, just follow my lead.” Eren pulls you closer, kissing your hairline. Goosebumps rise all over your body; not at the action itself, but how disturbingly easy the affection seems to come to him. As Eren knocks on Armin’s bright red door, you pack that thought away and shove it to the back of your mind to collect dust.

“Hi…guys?” Armin’s friendly smile upon opening the door falters in confusion as he takes you in, absorbing the sight of you two intertwined on his doorstep. Armin’s wide, blue eyes flick between the two of you, and you can see the gears churning in his head, trying to make sense of how awfully close you and Eren are. Pitting your fake relationship against Armin’s intellect is the perfect first test; a nervous sweat breaks out under your skimpy outfit.

“Sup, ‘min?” Eren smiles back, the very picture of nonchalance, extending his free hand to shake Armin’s shoulder.

“Come on in.” Armin, ever polite, turns to allow for plenty of room for Eren to pull you inside. He doesn’t outright ask why Eren’s holding you, but his eyes betray his suspicions. It seems like your plan, as terrible as it is, is working. One down, a dozen or so to go.

Never dropping his arm from around your shoulders, Eren steers you into the living room where one of Connie’s favorite bands is already blasting from the speakers. Annie and Mikasa are curled up together in Armin’s recliner, hands interlocked as usual; Sasha and Connie are positioned at Armin’s bar cart, violently shaking two cocktail shakers apiece; Reiner, Bertholdt, Marco, and Jean are on the couch, arguing over something sports-related. With a sinking stomach, you notice that there’s only one unoccupied seat left in the room.

“My two favorite lovebirds!” Sasha cries, abandoning her cocktail shakers and rushing over to give you a hug. Upon Sasha’s impact, Eren drops his arm and grabs your hand that’s closest to him as a substitute, never taking his hands off of you. His actions are pointed, purposeful; every pair of eyes in the room looks between the two of you in surprise. You can practically feel a hazel-tinted laser beam burning a hole into your forehead. “You guys are so late; honeymoon phase gotcha already?”

“Laying it on a little thick, Sash,” you whisper into Sasha’s ear, cheeks burning. To your chagrin, Eren only curls his mouth in response.

“What?” Connie frowns, still shaking his drinks. “How long has that been a thing?”

You pause, your heart nearly stopping. You should have made up a story, you realize, something to explain–

“Just a few weeks.” The still-strange weight of Eren’s arm around your shoulder returns, and his jade eyes rest on you, adoration beaming through his always-cool gaze. Against your will, butterflies start dancing in your stomach; apparently Eren’s quite the actor.

“Yeah,” you jump in, grateful for Eren’s lead, “we just wanted to feel it out before we told everyone, that’s all.”

“Sasha knew.” Mikasa raises a suspicious eyebrow. Annie smirks at the two of you, a knowing look on her face.

“It’s about time.” Marco appears from the kitchen with a huge bowl of tortilla chips in one hand and salsa in the other. “Good for you guys.”

You can’t help yourself, finally meeting Jean’s eyes. He’s openly scowling at you, which is to be expected; where Eren is a criminally smooth liar, Jean wears his heart on his sleeve. You recognize that face all too well: anger to mask heartbreak, the same face he wore when you used to fight. For the first time, it occurs to you how cruel this plan might be, how Jean might react to you moving on with a mutual friend. Guilt washes over you, cold and heavy.

“Thanks for giving me a heads-up before you moved in on my fucking girlfriend, Jaeger,” Jean snips, taking a long swallow of his beer.

The guilt drops away from you as quickly as your jaw; you’ve forgotten what a prick Jean can be. Eren has been slowly guiding you over to the singular remaining seat throughout the conversation, and after Jean’s comment, he tugs you down firmly onto his lap. He rubs a large palm over your thigh, a blatant gesture of ownership.

“Not your girlfriend anymore, Kirschstein.” You can hear the distinct note of pride ringing through his voice, hear the nasty look leveled at Jean without turning to face him. It’s been fifteen minutes of fake dating, car ride included, and you can already feel the friendship line blurring. Your head spins.

“Anyway,” Armin, ever the gracious host, interrupts, breaking the awkward tension that has settled over the room, “what bar does everyone want to head out to later? Connie gets the first pick, being the birthday boy.”

The conversation in the room picks back up into a familial bickering over the evening’s next destination. All of your friends have become accustomed to the occasional awkward moment over the years now that some of you have begun to couple up; Mikasa and Annie especially are notorious for bickering like an old married couple, no matter who’s around.

“I need a drink,” you murmur to Eren, moving to stand.

“Do you mind getting me one, babe? Don’t want to lose our seat.” Eren pecks you on the cheek, smiling up at you as if everything about your situation right now is normal, natural for him. Jean’s eyes follow you every step of the way, and your face burns.

Over the years you’ve been friends with him, it’s never been lost on you that Eren’s attractive, not after the dozens of women he ran through in his college years. Peeking over your shoulder now, however, feels like you’re seeing him for the first time, seeing him the way the world sees him. Heavy-set dark brows frame his bright eyes beautifully, his jaw’s grown sharp and severe, and his lips are soft and pouty, stretching into a wicked smirk with sharp canines. He had grown into a heartbreaker, and he’s your best friend and now fake boyfriend– you swat away your private admiration as soon as it comes, taking a deep breath to center yourself and rifling through the bar cart in a daze.

“Want me to make you one?” Sasha waves a bright red concoction under your nose. “Connie and I made them- it has three different types of liquor in it, and you can’t taste any of it!”

One sip of the tiny cocktail straw has your nose wrinkling in disgust. You’ve worked behind a bar since the day you turned twenty-one, and the drink Sasha’s offering you tastes like an overly-syruped nightmare. “Um…no, that’s okay Sash. I’ll probably just stick to beer.”

Connie sticks his tongue out at you. “Boring!”

Predictably, Sasha pouts. “Okay, but we’re definitely making you take a shot. We can chill it in the kitchen, want to help me get some ice?”

Holding up a bottle of tequila, she cocks her head toward the kitchen and wobbles her eyebrows madly. You almost laugh; anyone who can’t pick up on a hint from Sasha is walking around with earplugs and their eyes closed.

“Fine. Let me just grab Eren a beer, and I’ll meet you in there.”

“Ugh, couples,” Connie rolls his eyes, wandering over to fiddle with the dusty karaoke machine that Armin claims broke years ago. You’ve always been dubious as to the truth of that, but knowing your friends, you can’t blame him.

Opening the cooler, you smile to yourself; Armin remembered your favorite IPA from the brewery down the road and stocked the cooler accordingly, nestling a few Hazy Daze’s between Reiner and Bertholdt’s domestics. You pick your way through the haphazard seating arrangements back over to Eren, holding a cold Budweiser bottle towards him. He pauses in his conversation with Reiner, grabbing your hand that holds the beer and removing it from your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips, brushing them over in a light kiss. He looks you up and down lecherously as he does it, a dangerous curve to his lips.

You return a weak half-smile, doing your best to not appear outwardly shaken by Eren’s behavior and keep the what the fuck? thoughts from showing plainly on your face. Eren waves you off to the kitchen with a light pat on your bottom, innocent as ever.

“How’s it going?” Sasha asks, safe now in the privacy of the kitchen. Her face is already full-flush with excitement and that awful cocktail she was sipping.

“I mean, it seems like everyone’s buying it. Jean looks pissed, though.”

“What were you expecting? He’s always thought Eren had a thing for you.”

“Everyone thinks Eren has a thing for me,” you roll your eyes, “at least it’s working in my favor now.”

Sasha fixes you with a glare, wobbling slightly. “If you don’t think Eren actually has a thing for you, you must be blind. Deaf, too.”

“Sasha–”

“I mean, even if you hadn’t told me, I would have fallen for it. Is it not, like, weird for you guys? That it’s just natural for you two to–” Sasha burps, interrupting herself, and giggles. “Just makes ya think.”

“Sasha!” Connie calls from the living room. “Let’s do Eye of the Tiger first!”

“Woo!” Sasha shouts, abandoning you and running into the room to take part in the newly-revived karaoke festivities.

You stand alone in the kitchen, shell-shocked by Sasha’s observations. The truly irritating thing is that she’s entirely right. Not only do Eren’s little kisses here and there, the constant touching, even the pet names come naturally, it almost feels…nice. It’s as easy for you to receive his affection as it is for him to give it. You peek around the corner, grimacing at Sasha and Connie’s amplified wailing, just wanting to look at him. Really look at him.

Kicked back, beer in hand and jacket thrown over the back of his chair, Eren oozes charisma. Even doing nothing but holding a conversation with Mikasa, the room gravitates around him. Jean’s angry glare never leaves him; Armin has switched to drinking Budweiser, even though you know he hates it; Annie’s nodding along with whatever Eren’s saying; even Sasha and Connie are angling their performance around him, alternating between singing together and holding their microphones towards him, trying to elicit a reaction. He has this undeniable magnetic force, one that you aren’t exempt from.

You’d met him nearly a decade ago, in high school, and initially couldn’t stand him. His hair-trigger temper had hardly cooled with age, and his ego had gotten unthinkably larger, but you grew to find both of them charming– to a degree. One thing led to another, and before you knew it, Eren was the one cleaning you up and getting you drunk after every bad breakup, introducing you to all of your favorite sports teams and lending you jerseys for the games; hell, he even read that smutty fairy fantasy series you’d been obsessed with in college. Had the man you attempted Star Wars marathons with until you both fell asleep really looked like that the entire time?

He catches your stare, beckoning you over with one long, crooked finger. As his girlfriend for the night, you have to obey, even though you would much rather roll your eyes at the cliche.

“Missed you,” he mumbles as you sit back on his lap, breath hot against the shell of your ear.

“You too,” you respond accordingly, wrapping your arm lovingly around his shoulder. Eren’s eyes flit down to your cleavage, but knowing him, it’s impossible to discern if it’s part of the act, or Eren being himself.

His hands rest comfortably over the casing of your pants, one on your thigh and one on the small of your back, one thumb rubbing circles into your soft flesh. Reveling in the drag of his rings over your clothed body, you couldn’t help but wonder how they’d feel on your bare skin, on your throat, on your–

Surprising yourself at the dirty direction of your thoughts, you swallow your beer too quickly, coughing. Eren, who had coincidentally been taking a sip at the same time, laughs at you mid-sip, choking beside you and spraying beer out of his nose.

The entire room bursts into laughter; Eren regains his composure and joins in good-naturedly. You giggle along, relief coursing over your body. Sure, Eren might look a little extra handsome tonight and be a bit touchy because you asked him to, but he’s still Eren.

“They’re practically in sync already.” Hitch, Marco’s girlfriend who had apparently joined the party while Sasha and you were in the kitchen, rests her face on her hand dreamily.

“It’s a little freaky,” Annie observes with narrowed eyes, but the slight curve of her lip betrays her. Not only were they believing your little farce, but they were happy for you. That’s enough to make you flush a little, realizing how naturally everyone’s just accepted your fake relationship. Everyone but one person, at least.

Jean suddenly stands, ripping a beer from the cooler and storming into the kitchen. The laughter dies as quickly as it had come, everyone exchanging nervous looks.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Eren offers, nudging you off of his lap. You blanch.

“Eren, I don’t know if you should-”

“It’s fine,” Eren drops a soft peck on your forehead, walking away before you can stop him. You meet Mikasa’s eyes, wide and concerned. To everyone else, Eren’s walking calmly, not a hint of aggression in his gait. But you know him, know him well enough to catch the anger simmering in his eyes, quiet, but there.

Jean and Eren have always been friends, albeit reluctant ones at first, but too similar where it counted not to get along. That had abruptly come to a halt when you had fallen for Jean. At first Eren had been confused, but over time that confusion had melted into constant irritation. Jean and you were wrong for one another, you know that in hindsight, but at the time, you had chalked all the fighting up to a passionate relationship. The constant tears had driven Eren nearly to a breaking point; multiple times you had begged him not to bring his frustration to physical blows. And now, your fake-boyfriend slash best friend and ex-boyfriend with the two worst tempers out of everyone you know are “talking”. You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to keep the worry in your chest.

“Are you alright?” The question comes from Armin, who’s placed a steadying hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry that Jean isn’t taking the news well.”

“There’s no news,” Mikasa says low enough for none of the others to hear over the music, now standing directly behind Armin.

A neat little cross appears between Armin’s eyebrows. “They’re-”

“Faking,” she interrupts Armin, “they aren’t dating.”

Armin stammers, trying to correct her and apologize to you for her at the same time, but you just sigh. “How’d you know?”

“One of you would have told me,” she shrugs, “or at least I’d like to think you would.”

“It’s just…I couldn’t bear to show up alone, not with Jean here and apparently sleeping around since the breakup.” You cross your arms over your chest, grabbing your own shoulders tightly. It’s your fault, you know it is, but you had only wanted to feel a little less pathetic, a little less heartbroken. Drama had been an unfortunate and unexpected side effect.

“Why would Eren agree to that? It seems silly,” Armin muses, noticing your glare and immediately turning bright red, “I- I don’t mean you’re silly, just, you shouldn’t-”

“You know.” Mikasa bumps him. The slightest hint of a smile plays on her face, a knowing look directed at you. You frown, trying to look confused through the pink rising to your face.

A loud crash from the kitchen catches all of your attention, saving you from an uncomfortable line of conversation but making your heart beat that much faster. Dashing to the kitchen door, the entire house party hot on your heels, your thundering heart sinks.

Eren has Jean pinned up against Armin’s cabinets, forearm tight against the other man’s neck. Jean��s still seething at Eren, raw ego washing against the cool anger blazing in Eren’s eyes.

“Need to learn how to watch your fucking mouth, Kirschstein–”

“Eren!” Your voice is surprisingly firm, given the nauseating mixture of embarrassment, confusion, and panic swirling in your stomach. “Let him go!”

“Do you want to tell her what you said, or should I?” Eren hisses, nudging into Jean further. Jean’s eyes dart to you, back to Eren, and for a fleeting moment, you have hope that maybe this all can be resolved peacefully. And then Jean makes a fatal mistake.

He spits directly in Eren’s face.

Just as Eren swings, Reiner collides with the two, just barely catching Eren by his forearm before he can make contact with Jean’s cheek. Bertholdt, as always, is Reiner’s shadow, grabbing Eren by the shoulders and wrenching him away from Jean. It takes Connie, Reiner, Marco, and Bertholdt to restrain both of them, Armin standing in the middle and shouting how ridiculous the fight is above the curses.

“It’s my fucking birthday, Jean, come on bro!” Connie growls, pinning Jean to the cabinets with his back.

“Jaeger- back off!” Reiner manages to pull him back a few inches, hardly able to contain Eren, who’s struggling furiously, in his massive arms. Jean finally relents, slouching into the multiple arms holding him back. After several seconds, Eren does the same, never taking his eyes off of Jean. Into the shocked silence, Armin bravely speaks first.

“Maybe we should leave,” he suggests awkwardly, “take the party elsewhere.”

You pity him, poor Armin and his hosting inclination. Eren finally turns to face you. The wrath laid bare in his eyes sends a chill over your body.

“We are,” he spits, sparing Jean one last threatening glance before storming over, grabbing you harshly by the wrist, and practically dragging you towards the door.

“Eren, wait–” you try to reason with him and dig your heels in, but it’s fruitless. Eren’s strong, stronger than you, and you don’t stand a chance stopping him now that his mind’s made up.

He doesn’t drop the act at the car, ripping your car door open, waiting impatiently for you to step into your seat, and slamming the door behind you. As soon as he turns the ignition, the same angry rock music you had listened to on the way over blasts from the speakers; Eren makes no move to turn it down and neither do you. After so many years together, his temper rarely scares you anymore; it’s more of a nuisance than anything when it flares. You stare out of the window, seething with anger, arms crossed and foot tapping.

Five minutes into the drive, you realize Eren isn’t taking you to your house, but to his. What he’s thinking, you can’t be sure, but you go ahead and start making your plans to give him an earful and call your Uber the moment you get there. You just can’t wrap your mind around why he would attack Jean and embarrass you like that– Eren may have been a hothead, but rarely did he let his temper escalate to that degree, especially against a friend.

Eren whips his car into the driveway, parking with such force you nearly knock your head against the headrest. You reach for your door handle, ready to throw it open, but Eren’s faster. He hits the child lock button and slams his own door behind him, storming around the car.

“The fucking child lock button?” You leap out of your seat once he’s opened your door, glaring up at him with your fists curled by your sides. “Is that what I am, Eren, a child?”

“Come inside.” Eren’s voice is low, dangerous. You’re too angry to indulge his temper.

“No,” you snap, “I’m going home.”

No sooner have you pulled your phone out to call an Uber than Eren snatches it from you, sliding it into his pocket. He repeats himself, more forceful this time. “Come inside.”

You stand rooted to the spot for a beat, so angry you aren’t sure what you want to do more: run home, punch him, or kick his precious car headlight in. Eren simply glares down his strong nose at you, face unreadable as ever, rage still glittering in his eyes.

“Come inside, please,” Eren repeats himself again through gritted teeth. You decide you’ll indulge him and go inside, hear him out, and then punch him. At least it’ll catch him off guard, and you’ll have a better chance of getting your shot in. Without another word, you stomp up the walkway to his house, into the house, and into the kitchen, shoving your shoes off. Stupid fucking kitchens, you think to yourself, kicking your bare foot against the base of his kitchen island. Immature, but the little burst of violence feels good.

Whether Eren’s house smells like him or Eren smells like his house you’ve never been able to decide. The distinct scent of him envelops you: a boyish, sharp smell, laced with a hint of the weed he kept in the living room. Ordinarily it’s a comforting smell, but tonight, it nearly makes you sick with irritation. Fighting with Eren is something you do rarely, but you know the both of you well enough to buckle down. Arguing with Eren means you have a long, nasty, and emotionally gutting night ahead of you. You’re more than ready, fists shaking by your side.

“What the hell was that, Eren?”

He doesn’t answer, swinging the fridge open and grabbing a beer. He twists the top, tossing it aside carelessly and taking a healthy swig, bun bouncing on the back of his head, making no move to acknowledge your presence.

“Answer me!” Your voice rattles the cabinets. “Yeah, was the fake dating a stupid idea? Sure, fine, it was stupid, but starting a fucking fight with Jean on poor Connie’s birthday–”

“You didn’t hear what he said,” Eren says simply, still chugging his beer and avoiding your gaze.

“What could he have said to make you do that? What was so awful that you had to–”

“It was about you.” Eren finally brings his eyes to yours, staring you down through the little hairs that have escaped his bun with such intensity that it nearly knocks you clean on your ass.

Your heart stutters. “You– what did he say?”

“Told me if I wanted to taste your ‘slutty pussy’ so bad, I could just smell his breath. S’why he spit in my face.” Eren’s fingers wrap and unwrap around the beer bottle anxiously.

Your mouth drops agape, tears immediately springing to your eyes. No, you set your resolve, praying your body cooperates. “He…he said that?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d been fucking him?” Eren spares you another scalding look. Your temper flares at his anger, one fire against another.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Eren snaps, “this whole thing was your idea. What am I to you, just some toy you can dangle in front of your pussyboy ex boyfriend? How long have you been fucking him?”

“I haven’t been fucking him,” you hiss, “he lied because he was jealous. And you’re not some toy, you’re– you’re my best friend. I needed you.”

Eren freezes, eyeing you across the kitchen. His expression has changed, infinitesimally so, a pinch of the fury fading from his face but none of the heat. It strikes you that in the years you’ve known him, he’s never looked at you like this before, not once. “Say it again.”

“You’re my–”

“The other thing.”

“I needed you.”

“Again.”

“I needed– fuck, Eren, what is this? Some kind of game?”

He stalks toward you, silhouetted by the light behind him and looking sinful, closing you in. He’s forceful and shameless as he backs you into the counter, as quintessentially Eren as he can be. “Say it one more time.”

“I…needed you,” you indulge him, brain slowing down to pick up each little detail. His cologne– when did he start wearing cologne?– musky and thick in the air, one of his tattoos peeking above the collar of his shirt, the tangible sensation of emerald eyes dragging along every inch of you.

“I like the way you say that,” his tongue darts out, wetting his lips. You stare blatantly. His mouth is red, pouty, and full, bottom lip a little chapped from where he was chewing it in the car. “That you need me.”

Words are lost on you; even if you could gather something to say, it would probably get stuck in your throat the moment it materialized. His presence is choking you. He brings one of those massive hands up, cupping your jaw, running a thumb over your lip. His posture, looming over you, is demanding, almost hungry.

“Do you still?”

“Still?”

“Need me.”

You blink, eyes still watery. “How?”

“You’re a smart girl,” Eren murmurs, hot breath laced with beer fanning over your face, “you know. You’ve always known.”

You do know. When he ghosted a hand over your thighs at the bar, when you fell asleep on his chest watching a movie, the way he had kissed your head, nearly fought Jean, protected you at every twist and turn. You had kept it relegated to the recesses of your brain, slid a hand between your legs and allowed it to simmer to the surface, maybe for a moment, before pushing it back down. You had always known. He has you on the edge of a cliff, and with a thin gasp, you understand him now: he wants you to jump. And so do you.

“I still need you. Now.”

Something critical snaps in both of you. The countertop digs into your lower back, a beautiful, aching pain blooming up your spine to meet the sting of his teeth sinking into your bottom lip. He’s kissing you; this magnetic, maddening man is kissing you, hard. It’s all tongue and teeth, fingers wrapping in hair, hands exploring familiar places in a new way. Greedy, demanding sounds slip through his teeth as he paws at your clothes, squeezes your curves through the silken shirt Sasha had lent you.

“This shirt is ridiculous,” Eren pants into your mouth, “wish I wasn’t about to rip it off of you.”

A little whimper leaves your mouth at that, and your knees buckle. Eren catches you, grabbing you by your torso and lifting you up onto the kitchen counter; you use the extra height to wrap your legs around his hips. A groan from deep in Eren’s chest rumbles against your lips as he rolls his clothed cock insistently against you. The low, simmering heat in your stomach catches fire; he’s big, even through both of your pants, rubbing himself into where you need him most. A hand creeps up your neck, grabbing a fistful of hair and forcing you to look up at him. It hits you how large he is; six feet and some change of taut, corded muscle, bad intentions, temptation.

His voice is quiet and controlled, so close to your face that his nose moves against yours as he speaks. “I’m going to take you to my room. If that’s not okay with you, I need you to say it right now.”

You nod urgently, relishing the burn in your scalp where he holds your hair tight. “I want it- want you.”

Eren slides you off of the kitchen counter and holds you firmly around his waist, making a beeline for his room. You mouth at his neck, enjoying the little grunts he makes against your ear. You drop unceremoniously onto the bed, left to watch as he tears off his shirt.

Oh, and do you watch. It’s difficult to comprehend that your best friend is the man standing above you. You’ve seen him shirtless countless times, but not like this: chest heaving, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, muscles flexing as he reaches for your shirt, ripping it from you and tossing it away. Your eyes draw towards the defined v leading down beneath his jeans, and you wonder how it might taste under your tongue.

Your bra comes next, Eren moving down to take your lips in his again as he deals with the clasp. He pushes you onto your back, kissing down your neck, sneaking harsh bites in between the gentle presses of his lips.

“Careful, Eren– you’ll leave marks,” you gasp, pulling at his hair.

“Good,” Eren replies against your neck, emphasizing his point with another deep bite to your neck, “you wanted everyone to think I was your little boyfriend, didn’t you? Let them see.”

Your panties grow damp and hot against your core at that; you have no other response than to choke out a stunted moan.

“Fuck, you have no idea,” he growls, traveling down, teeth scraping the top of your breast, “what you do to me. How long I’ve wanted you.”

Your mind falters, caught in the crosswires of Eren’s confession and the way you’re clutching his head to your breasts, fingers desperately threaded in his dark hair and pulling him as close as you could get him. His mouth is so hot it burns, even against your feverish skin.

“Remember…” Eren muses, mouthing his way down your stomach, “remember college? When you’d wear those slutty little dresses out?”

“I remember,” you breathe, impatient and urging him towards your lower half.

“Used to come home from the bar and jerk myself off, thinking about this sweet little cunt,” Eren tears your pants down your legs, panties following, “could practically see it in those short ass dresses. I’d cum thinking about how you’d sound when I stuck my tongue in it.”

A lewd whine rips out of your throat before you can stop it. Eren’s pressing your thighs open now, and his words and the quick little swipes he’s making across your clit are making you dizzy.

“Fuck…” Eren trails off, eyes wide, “got such a pretty pussy. Just look at you.”

“Eren, please,” you’ve never been the begging type, but the bright green eyes peering up at you from where your legs are propped open by broad, strong shoulders take your sense away.

“I’ve got you,” he shushes you, grinning as he leans into your center. A thick stripe of a lick up the center elicits a groan from you both. “So fucking sweet. Knew you would be.”

Eren hooks his arms around your legs, dragging you down the bed to be flush with his face. Eren’s no amateur when it comes to women, you know that, but you had never dared to let yourself imagine what that might translate to in practice.

He licks little figure-eights around your clit, not quite hitting it; he’s teasing you, the antagonist that he is. You tremble under him, little gasps and whimpers puffing out of your lips. Eren smiles contentedly against your pussy, nose flush with your clit, nudging against it rhythmically as he licks through your folds, circling your entrance. You bring your hands down your body, grabbing a fistful of dark hair and pulling him closer to you; you don’t even know what you want, the singular word more ringing in your head like a church bell.

Eren chuckles. “You need something?”

“Stop fucking with me,” you breathe, inwardly cringing at the desperation in your voice, laid bare for him to see. You brace yourself, looking down to meet his eyes, and instantly regret it. The anger has faded entirely from his face, replaced by an unyielding hunger. A wet, wicked smile plays at his mouth; you can physically feel your cunt dripping just at the sight of him.

“You want me to stop fucking with you?”

“Please, Eren, I need you–”

“That’s all you had to say.”

And then, like he does with everything else in his life, Eren licks into you like his life depends on it, like he’s trying to drown himself in you. His tongue pushes in and out of your hole, swirling around your clit, and you can distantly hear the most obscene sounds you’ve ever heard slipping from your mouth. He’s so good, better than you’ve had in years; you throw your head back against the bedspread, hardly able to focus on breathing.

Just when you think it can’t get any more intense, Eren slides one long finger inside of you, curling it against a spongy spot in your walls that makes you see stars. He chuckles at the loud, long moan that you let out.

“My girl likes being full, doesn’t she?” He pumps his finger slowly, testing your limits. Your walls clutch down on him, begging.

“M-more,” you stutter, barely able to form a coherent word through your panting.

“What was that?” You can hear the shit-eating grin on his face.

“I need– fuck– I need more.”

“Magic word?”

“Please, Eren, fuck!”

“Good, good girl,” he coos, pushing another finger into you, “so sweet and needy for me, yeah?”

Your eyes fly open at the stretch, the fullness of his fingers moving inside you. His other hand comes up to push on your lower stomach; your head snaps up, and you frown at him, panicked.

“W-what are you– oh,” you hate yourself for it, but you can’t even speak as he applies pressure onto your abdomen. You feel strange; it’s just right and too much all at once. The familiar bubble of an impending orgasm swells in the pit of your stomach, but it’s more intense, wetter than you’ve ever felt it.

“Close?”

“Mhm,” you force out through gritted teeth. Eren moves his elbow slightly, just enough to bear down on your hip bone where you’re pushing your hips up towards him unwittingly. “But it- it feels weird…I, I can’t–”

“Sh,” he murmurs, mouth back against your clit, “you can do it, just for me, I know you can. It’s going to feel so good, you’ll see.”

Your eyes roll back in your head as you teeter on the precipice, blood roaring in your ears. You want to, you need to–

“Cum all over my fucking face baby, give it to me.”

The band in you snaps, your eyes rolling back into your head. You can feel your cunt spasming around his fingers, pushing something out. Liquid sprays from you, all over Eren’s face, soaking the sheets beneath you. You can’t even hear the lewd sounds coming out of your mouth, too surprised at the gushing orgasm. It finally winds down, and once you gather the energy, you shove insistently at his hand still pumping in and out of your sensitive pussy.

“You have the messiest little cunt,” Eren chuckles at you, wiping his face and kissing his way back up to your gasping mouth, “knew you were a squirter.”

He lands a few gentle taps against your sore pussy, and you flinch.

“I–I’ve never…” you take a shaky breath in between every word, “never done that before.”

Pride illuminates his face. “Really? I knew you could do it– just for me, right?”

You nod, sitting up on trembling elbows. “Your cock, I– I want it in my mouth. Please let me.”

You reach down to fumble with the button of his jeans, but Eren grabs your wrist, pulling your hand up to kiss it gently. “Next time. I’d never forgive myself if I busted before I got to fuck you.”

Too overwhelmed to answer, you simply nod again, sitting back as he shimmies his pants off. Once you catch sight of it, your mouth waters. He’s big, bigger than you thought, wide enough to where your fingers wouldn’t touch if you grabbed it, and long enough to make you gag. The thought goes straight between your legs, cunt still throbbing and clutching around nothing, and a rush of anticipation washes over you.

Eren flips you over onto your stomach, shoving a couple of pillows underneath your hips to prop your ass up. “Christ,” he exhales, landing a sharp smack to your ass.

“Please, Eren- oh!” You jump; Eren’s circling your asshole, using the mess you’ve already made as lube to pop the tip of his thumb in. “Eren…”

“You’d let me fuck you there, one day, I bet,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, you think. Your body tenses in response, the memory of your first glance at his cock fresh in your mind. Eren swears under his breath. “Maybe next time, then.”

You hear him spit, hear the slick sounds of him lathering himself up. You have a brief moment to think to yourself, with the last glimmering shreds of consciousness in your orgasm-dazed mind, that this is Eren. This is your best friend, pinning you to the bed by the back of your neck, rubbing your lower back, admiring you, fucking you. And then the head of his cock is pressing into you, and that last little bit of hesitation gives way.

“Oh, baby,” Eren bends over you to growl in your ear, “never gonna forgive you for keeping this perfect pussy from me all these years.”

“Eren, it’s so– oh my god,” you trail off, eyes rolling back into your head as a few more inches of him sink into you. The way your body stretches for him, the way he fills you, is unbelievable, sweetened by just the slightest burning sensation.

“Fuck,” he hisses, pressing his forehead into the back of your neck, “you feel so fucking good. Best I’ve ever had.”

You whine at that, pushing your hips back into his and forcing him to bottom out. Eren swears against your skin, nearly collapsing on top of you. Your cunt pulses around him, desperately trying to hold him. You can hardly fathom the weight of him inside you; you’re just so full, the word runs through your mind on a loop.

And when he rolls his hips into yours– you nearly start praying. He drags against your walls so nicely, you nearly cum again then and there. He works up a torturously slow rhythm, grinding his hips into yours. You bite down hard on your bottom lip, trying your hardest to suppress the obscene groan about to leave your mouth. You taste blood.

“Never giving this pussy up,” Eren grunts above you, “never letting you give this to anybody else again. It’s mine, isn’t it?”

You nod into the pillow beneath your head, tears pricking at your eyes. He’s picking up the pace now, and the exquisite push-and-pull rhythm of Eren moving inside of you coupled with the fact that it’s Eren moving inside of you is destroying any semblance of intelligent conversation you can muster.

“Say it’s mine,” his face is beside yours now. A hand grabs your hair, turning your face towards him. You know how dazed you must look, mouth open in a permanent gasp, eyes watery and full of hearts. “God, you look fucking incredible. Say it.”

“My…my pussy is,” you swallow hard around the delicious knot of shame in your throat, “yours. It’s yours.”

“That’s my girl,” Eren sits back up, thrusting even faster, “my pussy, my girl. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” you pant, canting your hips back against his, feeling your next orgasm approach embarrassingly fast. Eren understands, already knows your body as well as he knows you, and moves the angle of his hips just so to hit that spot he had found so quickly with his fingers earlier. You keen, drooling into the pillow, letting him fuck you stupid.

Eren shoves you over the edge for the second time that night. It’s toe curling, almost violent in nature, the way you cum around him, listening to him hiss as you tighten around him, vice-like. He fucks you through your orgasm for just long enough to see you through it, and flips you onto your back the moment you begin to twitch and shove at his hips, desperate for a break.

You slowly blink your eyes open in surprise, letting the tears roll down your cheeks, expecting to see Eren lining himself up, ready to fuck you senseless once more. Instead, he’s studying you, wiping a tear from your face, licking it off of his finger. There’s a moment happening here, an important one, one you don’t have the mental capacity to absorb right now.

“I want to see you now,” Eren says quietly, “need to see your pretty face when I cum, m’kay?”

You nod dumbly, not knowing how to respond to him in the thick air hanging between you. Before Eren can get any more words out of his open mouth, a loud ring startles you both.

Your phone is buzzing on the floor where it fell from Eren’s pocket; the name on the screen nearly stops your heart. Jean.

You stare into Eren’s eyes, a long, silent beat passes between you both. Your hazy mind is scrambling, grasping at anything you can say to take his mind off of the awkward interruption, but to your surprise, Eren cracks a grin. It’s a wicked grin, prettier than the devil himself and twice as evil.

“Your other boyfriend calling? Checking up on you?”

“He’s not my-”

“Better not be. Not after what I did to you tonight,” Eren’s voice drips with ego. Something in his eyes is territorial, carnal.

You find your words, but they come out quiet. “He’s not. Never again.”

Eren’s grin grows darker. He’s nudging your knees apart with his own, reaching down and pulling one of your legs to wrap around his waist. He’s pushing himself in now, the ringing of your phone fading into the background as the all-encompassing stretch of Eren inside you takes over your thoughts.

“Such a good girl,” he coos, thumbing at your bottom lip, “such a good mouth. Always telling me what I want to hear.”

You nod again, urgently this time, pulling your other leg up to hook them around his waist, hold him inside you, make sure he never leaves again. You’re addicted already; addicted to the pressure in your abdomen, addicted to the way his tip kisses your cervix, addicted to the taste of his sweat as you lick a strip of it from his face, cheekbone to temple.

“I…” you aren’t sure how to articulate how good it is, how good he is. A defeated laugh of your own making interrupts you. “You feel so fucking good. I feel so fucking good right now.”

“God, just look at you, all fucked out for me. You love it, don’t you?” Eren kisses your forehead, face to face with you after propping his elbows on either side of your face. “Love how I fuck you like a whore, don’t you? Tell me, baby.”

“I love it,” your voice is quivering, and you’re vaguely aware of tears streaming down your face. You’re overstimulated, you at least know that, but he just feels so good that asking him to stop seems more painful than letting him keep hammering into you.

“My pretty baby, you’re so fucking perfect,” Eren rambles, “so pretty when you cry for me.”

You can’t break away from his gaze, not through the tears or the rapid-fire speed of him fucking into you. Your legs are shaking so badly you can barely hold them up; Eren’s letting a flurry of little grunts and groans fly out, grabbing onto your cheek with one hand.

“Gonna cum soon,” he huffs, hips still pistoning into you hard enough to hurt, “gonna cum in your pussy, really make it mine, okay?”

“Okay,” you whimper, clamping down on him at the mere thought of it.

“Fuck, you like that don’t you?” He seethes against your forehead, thrusts beginning to falter. “You want to be mine? Want this pretty cunt stuffed full of my cum?”

You can feel him getting closer now, sloppy thrusts punching into your cervix, the ache of bruises forming on your inner thighs as he uses you, chasing his orgasm. You force your eyes open, meeting bright, hypnotizing green. Your voice is going to break, you know it, you hate it, you love him for it. “I– I want to be yours. P-please cum in me Eren, I need it.”

He slams into you one last time, holding his hips as tightly to yours as he can manage, cumming deep inside you with a breathless curse. You arch your back, relishing the feel of his cum in you, warm and filling. Even in your fucked-out mind, you know it’s a lot; you can feel the drip of it, seeping out around his cock and down onto the sheets. The leaden collapse of his body into yours, the gradual softening of him inside you, grounds you, pulling you down from the clouds and back into the bed.

It’s Eren on top of you, sweaty skin clinging to yours, his cum that you begged him for leaking out of your abused pussy. Your eyes shoot open. He’s incredibly heavy, your breath still coming out in short puffs as you try to catch it. He slides out of you; one last pitiful whimper leaving your lips as you find yourself empty.

“Holy shit,” Eren breathes out into the tension, a humorless and exhausted laugh punctuating his statement. As he rolls off of you, you’re overcome with the urge to smack him.

“That’s one way of putting it.” You scrounge around in the bed, trying to find the edge of the sheets to cover yourself with. Eren lays beside you, arm tossed over his eyes, as if the entire axis of your friendship hadn’t just flipped on its head. After a beat, you speak your mind, testing the waters. “I should probably call Jean back.”

That catches his attention. Eren sits up, scowling at you. “Why?”

“Maybe he wants to apologize.”

Eren snorts, rolling off of the bed and pulling you up with him, bridal-style; you aren’t sure where he’s taking you, but all the fight’s been fucked out of you, and you melt into his arms, eyes falling closed. “Who fucking cares?”

“I might,” you answer quietly, adjusting to the heat radiating off of his body. When your eyes open, you realize he’s carrying you to the bathroom to clean you up. Your heart thuds sadly in your chest, overcome with so many emotions you couldn’t begin to name them if you tried. You almost want to cry again, for a different reason now.

Eren sits you on the toilet, not responding to your small confession. He drops to his knees before you, reaches a long arm behind him over to the fixtures on his obscenely large bathtub, pushing the plug in and turning the water on. You draw your knees up to your chest, suddenly feeling incredibly exposed. Satisfied with the water temperature, Eren turns back to you, one hand placed firmly on each of your kneecaps.

“You don’t need him,” he says, solemn as you’ve ever seen him, “and from what I saw tonight, you don’t even want him. You know that now, right?”

There’s something about the way he says it, a hidden thread of pleading woven into his words. Your exhausted brain holds onto that, but your heart refuses to believe in it, broken and beating wildly in your chest.

“I just–”

“I meant it, you know,” Eren avoids your direct gaze, eyes flitting over every feature on your face, “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. Meant every word of it.”

You pause, wondering absentmindedly if he can hear the pounding of your pulse. “Really?”

“We don’t need to get into it now,” he shrugs, “but you know that. You know I’d do anything for you. You know I’d treat you well. ‘M not a bad guy.”

Your chest aches. “I know, but Eren–”

“So that wasn’t the best sex you’ve ever had in your life?” He fixes you with a singular, raised eyebrow, so serious that you giggle in his face.

“You might have me there.”

“Better than horseface?”

“Watch it.”

The light returns to his eyes; it loosens a hard little piece in your chest, flooding you with warmth. It hits you just how much you love that little sparkle amongst the green, just how much you would give to see it as often as you can. “We won’t talk about it, for now at least. I’ll get us cleaned up, and we can go watch–”

“Mamma Mia,” you blurt, hopeful.

“No fucking shot. But we can watch something else of your choosing, if you let me eat you out again.”

“Eren!” You smack his shoulder, scandalized. Both of you laugh; your fake outrage is twice as funny considering the state of you right now, smeared makeup and bruises on your neck.

He grins crookedly back at you. “That’s not a no.”

#aot x reader #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren x you #eren yaeger x you #eren yeager smut #aot fanfiction #eren jaeger fic #eren jaeger fanfiction

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selineram3421 · 4 months

Note

здраствуйте можно сделать реакцию на ревность аластора

Translated:

Hi, can I get a reaction to Alastor's jealousy?

Yes.

Jealousy Headcanons

Alastor X Reader

Warning! ⚠

⚠ platonic to romantic, violence, all caps in bold italics = SOUND EFFECTS, implied torture/murder, gore? eyeballs, possessive? Alastor wants all of your attention ⚠

Alastor has never felt jealous! How absurd of you to think that! Hahaha! Ha... Who is that demon taking up your attention?

He always had your attention.

You could be talking to the Princess but still focus on him.

Hell, you could be checking in a guest and still keep up with his tale of the day.

But now it was quite odd.

There was a demon coming by the hotel, not to see if they were interested in the cause but to use up his friend's precious time.

Even now the beastly thing walked up to the check in counter and started up a conversation with you.

He watched from the bar.

"Hey! I see its dead as ever in here.", the dragon demon grinned as they leaned on the counter.

"Not true~", you had replied. "I checked in four new guests!"

Yes, you had a knack of persuasion. Able to convince many to do almost anything. Sometimes even him.

"Oh yeah? How many sinners walked in?", the scaled creature leaned close.

Far too close for his liking.

"I just told you how many.", you replied and placed a finger on the dragon's snout, pushing them back as well. "Personal space."

He didn't like this demon.

Everything about them set something off. Their manners, their way of speaking, the way they move-

"Oh come on, I don't bite sugar cake~", the beast took your hand and kissed their way up to your elbow.

The way they t̵̬̥̻͂̿̈́ȏ̴̒͠u̸c̷̈́̊̆́̓͘h̷e̴̖̖͒̓͂͋̎ḑ̴̣̋͜ you.

"Nope!", you yanked your arm away and held it close. "None of that.", you laughed nervously with an uncomfortable smile.

It looked wrong. Your smile should be a happy one.

"I said I don't bite!", they laughed and tried to grab at your arm again. "You know I'm messing! When's your break?", they leaned over the counter, still trying to get at something to pull you closer. "I know a good bar to go to, or we can go to the club! I'd like to see your ass in something a little less-"

"Ew, no.", you rejected and backed away.

"Come on!", they started to climb on the counter. "Its just one time! I'll even help you get in and out of your clothes.", they grabbed onto your sleeve.

That's ENOUGH!

He quickly shadow traveled and snatched the wrist of the dragon.

"I believe they said no."

The beast growled with a sneer before looking at him, freezing up once realizing who had their wrist.

"I was just joking man. Haha..", the dragon looked between him and you. "I understand! I'll back away. The slut is yours."

"Excuse me!?", you said angrily.

His antlers grew, the low static that hummed now raising up in volume.

"₵₳ⱤɆ ₮Ø ⱤɆ₱Ɇ₳₮ ₮Ⱨ₳₮?"

"The slut-"

SNAP

He held the demon's snout shut as they screamed and cried over their broken wrist.

"Now, there is a no killing rule in the hotel.", he said and then grinned menacingly. "But that doesn't apply outside."

His smile widened after seeing the panic in their eyes.

"Dear.", he turned to face you. "Has this guest overstayed their welcome?"

You stared at the beast with such a terrifyingly hateful glare.

"Yes they have.", you replied, crossing your arms. "I'd like to keep a souvenir, for memories."

And then you gave him that lovely smile.

"Alastor, do you think you could get me a dragon eye or two? I hear they make nice details to things."

"I'll make sure to get them.", he released the demon, only for his tendrils to take hold of them. "I won't be long.", he reassured, lifting up your hand to kiss the back of it.

He saw you blush before he 'escorted' the demon outside.

After finishing up (and calling Niffty to clean up), he returned with two freshly picked dragon eyes.

You thanked him with an odd little gleam in your eyes. No doubt your mind jumping idea to idea of what you could create with them.

Now with the pest gone, he would have your attention again.

Just like he wanted

"Thank you Alastor. I'll be able to make something interesting with these."

"I can't wait to see what you make this time."

Perhaps he'll ask you that question sooner than later.

Of course he has to prepare everything to properly court you.

I am using a website to translate requests. Please let me know if I have translated anything wrong.

~Seline, the person.

Taglist@

@willowaudreykeyes @biromanticboba @kiraisastay @pooplyface1423 @ducky-died-inside @scary-noodlesblog @lbcreations-blog @c4rved-pumpk1n @stolas-thebirb @+?

ML for Alastor🎙

#alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor the radio demon #gn reader #the radio demon #alastor x reader #headcanons #alastor headcanons #jealousy #implied murder #implied torture #gore?#eyeballs #this turned out more like a fic #he do want all your attention tho

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taylor-titmouse · 2 months

Text

hey i want to talk about how you should be promoting your work as an erotic author/illustrator

i'm writing this up because the marketing aspect of my work as an erotic author/illustrator is a science to me, and also because i'm the guy who gets unreasonably annoyed when i see other creators not properly advertising their work. you presumably want to make money off your work. this post will be written under the assumption you want to make money off your work but are doing a bad job at it. it will be very confrontational. if you read this and feel attacked you're right and i am attacking you.

this is geared toward selling erotic comics/writing/books/art as products. i will probably write more than one post about this subject so if i didn't touch on something you want to know more about, comment/send me an ask and i'll keep it in mind for the next one.

i will start with my first and least specific but most important point:

DON'T GET FUCKING CUTE

hi are you paying attention. i'm gripping you by the sides of your face. do not get fucking cute with what you are trying to sell. you are not a big enough property to get cute, nobody LIKES it when big properties get cute, and you are selling porn. you have to own this. you have to be up front about this. don't be tongue in cheek, don't be all teehee i wonder what this could be~, don't be secretive. you are selling a product. you have to fucking act like it. you are an adult selling pornography to other adults. i am GRIPPING your HEAD you NEED to understand this.

and to be clear when i say 'cute' i mean coy. i don't mean cutesy, as in the aesthetic. you can be as hello kitty pastel ten emojis a post uwu as you like when you're building your audience and generating hype. but when you start trying to sell, don't be vague, don't be sarcastic, don't mislabel your work as a joke and assume everyone is on it. because they're not.

you must always assume 75% of the people seeing the thing you are advertising have no fucking idea who you are. and that includes a huge chunk of the people who already follow you. they do not know who you are or what you've been working on for two months or why they should care about it. they just got here. somebody just reposted it. they are seeing it for the first time. most people are only looking at social media for a tiny chunk of their day. they are not keeping up with you. you cannot get cute about what you are trying to sell because nobody knows what it is until you tell them.

okay are you still with me. we are going to talk about clarity now.

YOU GOTTA TELL ME WHAT IT IS

good lord the amount of times i have gone to buy somebody's comic or book and had no idea what's actually in it or what it's about. who are the characters? why should i care about them? what do they do in it? what is the premise of this thing you want me to spend $5 on? why would you not tell me? i'm shaking you again. please i have to know what i'm buying i only have so much money to spend on porn.

porn, arguably more than any other genre, relies on knowing exactly what is in it. you do not want to surprise your readers with a kink they were unaware of! and on the flip side, you do not want to miss out on your target audience! if your book contains a hot spider babe laying eggs in an elf, you have to say so. not just so people who don't want to read about eggs know it isn't for them, but so the people who are egg crazy can see that and go "oh fuck YES i love EGGS here is my $5 and an extra $2 tip for catering to me specifically". a contents/features list is as much an advertisement as it is a warning!

as for re: who the characters are and why should i care, i'm sorry but you need to learn how to write sales copy. you have to write blurbs. you have to get good at the shit that goes on the back of a book. we all hate it but we have to do it. i want to know who the characters are and what the context is. i, personally, am not interested in contemporary stories as much as fantasy and historical. please tell me what genre this porn exists in so i know if it aesthetically appeals to me. pull some books off your shelves and see how they do it. hell man go look at mine.

while you're there, note that every single book of mine has a sample of what's in it. this feels like such a no-brainer to me but again! the amount of times i have gone to buy somebody's work and they don't show me what their work looks like! you gotta give me the first page or two! just enough that i know if i like the way your writing sounds, or the way you draw your comics! i don't know you! i am not going to trust that you're good at what you do just based on a cover. the cover is to get me to this step, it is not the only step. you have to show me that you're worth spending my money on!

to put it less cynically, you want to catch my interest. you want me to go 'oh i want to see more of this', you want me to go 'ahh i want to know where this goes!' you need to get me invested and craving more. earn my $5!!!

YOU HAVE TO MAKE IT EASY TO GIVE YOU MONEY

hey go look at your bio right now. go look at your pinned post. do you have a link to your patreon there? do you have a link to your itchio/gumroad/whatever? do i have to click more than once to get to the places you want me to go to give you money? why? why are you making me click twice? have we learned nothing from every website making you click an extra time when they make some stupid UI update and how much it pisses us off? i have already given up, i have forgotten you, i am not giving you my $5 today. put your links in the easiest places to get to them.

god literally as i was writing this post i went to go find somebody's itchio to see how they described their work and it was not anywhere on their profile. grabbing you and shaking you PUT THE LINK WHERE I CAN FIND IT. don't make it hard! make it easy! i am a dickhead sitting on the toilet scrolling, saw your post, and was interested enough to read further. but you made me go to your bio to find your linktree and oops i have already gone back to my timeline to look at the boobies in the next post. stop wasting precious bio space on DNIs and put your fuckin links there!!!

this is more for the twitter people, but: just put the link in the damn post. just say the word commission. just say it's for patreon. "wuh wuh the algorithm" it is not the damn algorithm it's that everybody hates advertising and nobody wants to retweet ads. putting slashes in the words doesn't do anything and you look like a fool. i have posted so much art that says it's 'a commission for ___" and it did exactly as good as any other art despite having the word commission in it. and by doing the slashes you just made it impossible for anybody to search your account for your commission information (which should be at the VERY LEAST in a post under your pinned tweet if you're not actively posting about them being open).

okay that went on a tangent i'm going to back to the point of putting the link in the tweet. put it in the first post. not in the first reply. don't tell them to go to your bio. put it in the post people are actually going to share. it's fine to put more information in the thread but people are only ever going to share the first post. so put the link there. you have to make it easy. putting links in tweets can hurt you algorithmically, even in the replies. so you're better off having it in the post that actually gets seen and shared. i don't want to open the tweet and scroll to get to your sales page where i ASSUME you will have put all the information anyway. put it in the tweet that just got retweeted by itself onto my dash!

also you have to share it a ton of times. i repost my shit every few hours when i'm trying to push a new product. as i said before people are not 24/7 looking at their timelines. they missed it the first time. they missed it the second time. they didn't get paid yet that week but they were after the eighth time and you reminded them again so they finally bought it. that i will still get sales every time i repost a book ad weeks after release says there are always people who missed it, or who only just showed up.

abandon your pride and shill. shills pay their bills. anyone who gets annoyed about it isn't giving you money in the first place. don't worry about looking like a sell out. don't apologize for plugging your own work. post about it often, post about it in different ways. post about it. post about it. you are not going to make money if people don't know you have something to sell them. if you want to make a career out of it, you need to act like it.

I DON'T HAVE A FOURTH POINT

kisses your forehead. i'm sorry for yelling at you. i've been making and publishing and selling adult art for the past two-three years and have got myself to the point where it pays my rent, and i got there by paying attention to what does and does not work.

please do your best to make money. i want you to make money.

as i said above i plan to write more posts on this subject, such as cover design, how to actually write sales copy, and best practices with running a patreon, but if there's things you would want to hear more about leave a comment or send an ask! i will probably be less aggressive on future topics. these are just things that have grinded my gears for a grip.

#tt talks writing #tt talks drawing

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scuderiahoney · 4 months

Text

Be Brave

Oscar Piastri x reader

Masterlist

Summary: You’re a teacher, and someone’s had the brilliant idea to send your class full of 5 year olds to the McLaren Technology Centre. Chaos ensues. Oscar’s there to help.

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: none

a/n: this is not the angst I threatened or the fic from the dialogue poll I did, but a secret third thing: a request I finally got the motivation to finish after seeing cute pics of Oscar with kids. Enjoy!

In hindsight, whoever’s idea it was to bring a classroom of five year olds to the McLaren Technology Centre- an active car factory- has definitely never stepped foot in a classroom full of five years olds. You’re lucky- your students are quite well behaved, and you’ve got plenty of parent chaperones with you. It turns out that about half your class’ families seem to be McLaren fans. Half your students had showed up today in bright orange- papaya, one of them had corrected you. You’re not complaining- it makes them easier to spot.

The field trip has been fun. The kids are thrilled about everything. It’s just. Tiny hands, tiny humans, wandering through an active car factory? You’re on edge the whole time. You’re constantly scanning the class, counting to make sure you haven’t lost any students as the tour guide tries to explain mechanical engineering in words that 5 year olds will understand.

You breathe a mild sigh of relief when they bring you into a large, open conference room. They’re going to have someone come speak to the kids in a few minutes. While you have the chance, and a closed room with enough people to guard the exits, you stand in front of your class and tell them to go wild. Seventeen five year olds begin to run around the room. One 5 year old clings to your hand in the quietest corner of the room.

Sammy. He’s a quiet kid, not one for the chaos. He’s stuck to your side the whole morning, staring at everything with big eyes and jumping at all the loud noises. You relate to him more than you’d like to admit. Somehow, the quiet kid turned into a teacher. It seems almost hard to believe looking back, how painfully shy you were.

Sammy tugs on your hand and points at a large mural on one of the walls. “Who’s that?” He asks.

The room you’re in has the two current drivers plastered on the walls, larger than life. You look where he’s pointing and smile.

“That’s Oscar Piastri,” you say, extending the syllables for him.

“Os-car Pi-as-tri,” he sounds out. “That’s my dad’s favorite driver.”

You smile. “Wanna know a secret?” He nods, and so you whisper loudly. “He’s my favorite too.”

Sammy giggles. “Oscar Piastri.”

“He says it better than most of the broadcasters, I think,” says someone behind you.

You turn and come face to face with none other than Oscar Piastri. You hope your shock isn’t too obvious, and you try to control your wide eyes. They’d said someone from the team was going to come talk to your kids- you hadn’t expected it to be one of the drivers. You smile politely as you feel Sammy step behind your legs.

“Hi. Sorry about the…” you wave your hand in the general direction of the children running around behind you. “If they didn’t get some excercise they were never going to make it through the rest of the day.”

“No worries,” Oscar says, smiling brightly. He looks at Sammy where he’s hiding behind you. “Not this guy, though?”

“No, Sammy here is very well behaved and polite,” you say proudly, before whispering, “and quite shy.”

Oscar nods in understanding. His face has gone soft. You weren’t lying when you said he was your favorite, and it only increases with the way he looks at the five year old so fondly. You think maybe Oscar understands Sammy all too well. You turn over your shoulder to look at the little boy.

“Sammy, should we practice being big and brave and introducing ourselves?” You ask. He frowns slightly but nods anyways. “We’ll do it together, okay?”

He nods again and steps out from behind your legs. You stand up straight, and he follows suit. Then you stick your hand out to shake Oscar’s as you introduce yourself.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” he says, repeating your name back to you. “I’m Oscar.”

Sammy takes a tentative step forward and sticks his tiny hand out. You drop back just a bit and pull your phone from your pocket, giving Oscar a questioning glance and making a camera sort of motion with your hands. He nods eagerly before he crouches down to Sammy’s level.

“My name is Samuel,” he says, as he shakes Oscar’s hand. “But you can call me Sammy.”

You hide an endeared laugh behind your hand and snap a picture of the two of them. You know his parents will be thrilled.

“Hi, Sammy,” Oscar says sweetly. “My name is Oscar. It’s very nice to meet you.”

“You’re my dad’s favorite driver,” Sammy says. “And my teacher’s favorite driver. So I think you’re my favorite, too. Os-car Pi-as-tri.”

You stare down at him with wide eyes, suddenly feeling betrayed by your favorite student. Your face grows warm, but Oscar just laughs lightly and smiles up at you.

“Is that so?” He says, turning back to Sammy. “I’m honored.”

He stands back up, and Sammy goes back to clinging to your side. There’s a bright smile on Oscar’s face. You know yours matches it.

“So, are you our guest speaker?” You ask, trying to will your face to cool down.

He nods eagerly, eyes darting around the room, watching kids run everywhere. One of them bumps into the back of your legs and squeaks out a quick apology before running away again. He laughs lightly, hiding it behind his hand.

“Hopefully Lando and I can keep them entertained,” he says.

“Oh, they’ll be fine, they’ll sit quietly when I ask them to,” you say.

He gives you an uncertain look, a soft smirk on his lips. You laugh, hoping it’s not painfully obvious how taken you are with him. He’s been your favorite driver because of his level head and dry humor, but standing in front of him you can’t help but notice how cute he is. Before he can say anything in response and challenge your ability to control your class, Lando comes stumbling into the room.

“Okay, now this is my kinda school trip,” he says, an impressed grin on his lips. He elbows Oscar. “This was me as a kid.”

Oscar gestures towards Sammy, still tucked against your leg. “This was me, I think.”

Lando laughs and nods. He tilts his head at you, and you stick your hand out once again and introduce yourself. Sammy follows suit. Lando bends to shake the five year olds hand, giving both you and him an impressed smile.

“Sammy’s working on being big and brave and introducing himself,” Oscar says.

“Well he’s doing a great job,” Lando says with an approving nod.

“He’s got a great teacher,” Oscar says, grinning at you.

With that, your face grows hot again. You clear your throat and turn over your shoulder to look at the class. They’re beginning to slow just slightly. Perfect timing.

You clap your hands, and each of them skids to a stop, turning to look at you. “Okay, friends! Come sit up here, we have some very special guest speakers.”

The children all make their way to the front of the room, sitting down on the carpet in a semicircle. Even Sammy wanders away, taking a seat near the back. You turn back to Oscar and Lando, who both have impressed looks on their faces.

“I think we need you to run our meetings,” Oscar says, brows raised.

“Oh, if you give them permission to go crazy consistently when they need it, they’ll listen when you tell them it’s time to be calm,” you say with a shrug. “My mum was a teacher, too, she taught me that.”

“Yeah, if Zak let me be a menace before meetings I’d have a lot easier time sitting through them,” Lando agrees. “Alright, you little muppets!”

He steps in front of the class. Oscar gives you an exasperated smile, like you’re both sharing a moment of understanding. Maybe Lando’s still a 5 year old at heart. You laugh and step back with the chaperones to watch them speak as Oscar follows Lando’s lead. It’s fun to watch. You realize they couldn’t have picked better speakers.

Some of the kids recognize the drivers, but even the ones who don’t are enamored once they find out that these guys drive race cars for a living. You snap lots of pictures of your students staring up at them with wide grins. Lando continues to call them muppets, earning laughs each time. Oscar gets down on their level and uses a little model of the car to explain the aerodynamics. They give a horrible demonstration of slipstream, with Lando pretending to drive and Oscar pretending to be the air. Then, at the end, they open it up for questions. Eighteen tiny hands fly up into the air.

“Do you speed when you drive a normal car?” One of them asks.

“Never,” Lando lies.

“D’you ever fight with other drivers?” Another student asks.

“We try to leave what happens in the race on the track,” Oscar answers. “We’re all quite nice to each other outside of the races, actually.”

Lando shrugs and shakes his hand from side to side. A few of the kids catch on and laugh.

Sammy is sitting in the back of the group, his hand raised. He’s not waving it around, not bouncing up and down. But you watch Oscar scan the group, see him spot the tiny hand anyways.

“Sammy,” he calls out. “What’s your question?”

Sammy looks shocked to have been called on, but he clears his throat and speaks up. “What’s your favorite color?”

The grin that breaks across Oscar’s face is endearing. Lando smiles, too, presses his hand to his chest. You wait for the canned answer- papaya, you think.

“Mine’s bright green,” Lando says.

Oscar nods. “Mine is blue. What’s yours?”

“Mine is blue too,” Sammy answers.

“Good taste.” Oscar says. He exchanges a grin with you. You smile proudly at Sammy, so happy to see him step out of his shell just a bit.

The next student who gets called on says, “my mum told me to ask if you’re single,” and you clap your hands and walk towards the front.

“Okay, friends, I think Oscar and Lando have given us enough of their time,” you say. “Can we all say a big thank you?”

A chorus of little voices calls out varying forms of thank you. One of them screams it, and Lando winces. Oscar’s cheeks are pink, probably from the student asking about his relationship status. Is it bad that you almost wanted him to answer? You’re being ridiculous, you know. But his flushed face is cute, and you can’t help but smile at him.

You shake their hands one more time before they leave. “Thanks again. You’ve really just made their days.”

“We were happy to,” Oscar says.

“Yeah, you’ve got a good group of kids,” Lando agrees.

“And they’ve got a good teacher,” Oscar repeats his earlier comment.

You laugh, feeling your face grow hot. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

Oscar goes to say something else, but someone leans in through the door and calls out to him and Lando. He smiles sheepishly as Lando urges him towards the exit, tugging on his shirt.

“It was nice meeting you!” Oscar calls out before he disappears through the doors.

You turn back to your class and refocus. It’s time to move on to lunch, which is always the worst part of any field trip. Someone comes by to bring your group to the cafeteria. Your field trip worst nightmare- a large, open room full of people. You make sure all the chaperones are set with their groups and head off.

It goes fine. At first. You get the kids settled at tables and do a quick head count. Everyone’s there. They provide lunch for the kids, so you help to hand them out to everyone. Eighteen five year olds sit quietly, eat sandwiches and drink juice. You breath a little sigh of relief.

Then the kids all decide they need to go to the bathroom. You split them up, send them with chaperones in groups. You stay back at the tables with the ones who say they don’t need to go, knowing full well that in ten minutes they’ll be whining for the restroom. You clean up spilled apple juice and eat half your lunch. The bathroom groups come back one by one. Seventeen five year olds sit down at the tables.

And no, that can’t be right. You count again. Seventeen. One more time- seventeen. There’s an empty seat. You turn to the nearest chaperone, who also has a panicked look on his face.

“Sammy,” he says, eyes wide. “He was in my bathroom group, I swore he came back with us-“

You can’t panic. You turn to the nearest McLaren employee and tell them the situation. The look on her face tells you she’s going to panic, so you take control of the situation. You ask her to get everyone on the lookout for him, to page him over the speakers. Then you turn to your class.

“Friends,” you say, loudly. “Has anyone seen Sammy?”

Casey, one of the louder boys, raises his hand. “He stopped to tie his shoes when we were coming back.”

You could strangle the parent for not noticing, for not keeping an eye on the kids, but you don’t have time for that. At the very least, you have a starting point. You delegate a couple chaperones to stay with the kids in the cafeteria, and enlist a couple others to help you look. Panic is itching at the back of your brain, but you keep it tamped down. You’ll find him, and then you’ll freak out about it.

You split up, wandering the halls and asking everyone if they’ve seen a shy five year old with dark hair. They all tell you no, but that they’ll keep their eyes peeled. You check around corners, behind doors, in conference rooms and offices. You think you accidentally interrupt what was likely a very important meeting, though when you explain you’re looking for a missing child the men in suits all seem to understand.

The longer it goes on, the more sick to your stomach you feel. It’s Sammy. He got separated from his group and probably panicked just like you want to do now. He could be anywhere. He’s tiny, he could be hiding somewhere you’d never even think to look. His parents are going to kill you-

Oscar calls your name. It’s probably odd that you already recognize his voice, but you don’t have time to worry about that. You turn to look at him, and relief washes over you. He’s standing at the end of the hallway, his hand holding onto Sammy’s. You want to march down the hallway to them, but instead you collapse against one of the walls and press your hand to your mouth. Oscar pulls him towards you.

“I found him wandering in the hallway upstairs,” Oscar says. “He said he got lost.”

You nod, crouching down to Sammy’s level. He hides behind Oscar’s legs slightly.

“You’re not in trouble,” you say. “It’s okay. You found a helper, right? We always say that, look for the helpers. It’s okay! But next time you stop to tie your shoe-“ Oscar muffles a laugh behind his hand at that. “-you tell a grown up, okay?”

Sammy nods solemnly. You stand back up.

“Thank you,” you say to Oscar. “I owe you one, big time.”

“No worries,” he says, shrugging. “Knew you must be freaking out, so.”

You reach for Sammy’s hand and head for the cafeteria. To your surprise, Oscar follows. You’re not complaining.

“I’ve only been teaching for a year,” you explain, though you doubt he cares. The nervous energy needs to go somewhere, you suppose. “And I still feel brand new, you know? And school trips- don’t even get me started.”

Oscar laughs. “But field trips were the best part of school.”

“I lost a five year old in a car factory,” you say dryly. “Field trips are much less fun as a teacher.”

Oscar nods in understanding, trying and failing to hide his laughter. You come into view of the cafeteria and start counting heads. There are seventeen other 5 year olds still sitting at the tables. Sammy joins them, and you breathe a sigh of relief. Oscar does too. You pull out your phone and call the other chaperoned who went off to look, and tell them to head back to the cafeteria. With any luck, you might still be able to finish the tour.

“He’s a good kid,” Oscar says fondly, and you smile.

“He’s my favorite,” you admit. “I was a shy kid, too.”

Oscar leaves soon after that with a soft smile and an even softer goodbye. You wish he was the one leading the tour, but you know that would never happen. You’re lucky enough to have had the chance to meet him. He’s the same age as you, and he’s a world famous racecar driver. He’s probably already forgotten your name.

The rest of the tour is uneventful. None of your students wander off, and all of them are well behaved. They spot photos of Oscar and Lando in the halls and point excitedly at them, calling out their names. Finally, you’re brought out onto the lawn near the lake, and you give the kids a few minutes to play in the grass. You have the strong urge to lay down on the lawn and let them run until they all pass out. They have boundless energy, but you’re exhausted.

Someone nudges your arm lightly. You turn, expecting it to be a kid or a chaperone, but you come face to face with Oscar again.

“Oh god, did I lose another one?” You ask frantically.

He laughs. “No, no! Just came by to say goodbye.”

“Oh,” you say in understanding. “Thanks again, you know, for finding Sammy and for talking to the kids. I don’t think they’re gonna stop talking about this for ages.”

Oscar’s cheeks are flushed. “I’m glad they had a good time.”

You nod. “I did too, even with all the chaos. You have a really cool job, you know?”

He shrugs. “Not as important as yours. Tiny minds, shaping the future, you know.”

You let out a puff of air. “Sometimes it feels like I’m just struggling to keep the tiny humans alive, let alone teach them anything.”

He’s staring at you with this warm look on his face. You like his smile. There’s something comforting about it.

“Nah, I see the way they look at you. And Sammy introduced himself, you taught him that,” Oscar says. “That’s way more important than shapes or letters.”

Your face grows even hotter. “Thanks, Oscar.”

You see the bus pulling up the road out of the corner of your eye. About time to round the kids up. You turn towards your class, who are running around on the grass.

“Well, I’ve got to get them rounded up to go back, so unless you want to get mobbed by tiny humans you might want to make a run for it,” you say. “They’re distracted now, but they’ve been talking about you all afternoon.”

Oscar laughs brightly. “Yeah. I’ll head out. Um- d’you maybe-“ he pauses, and when you turn to him he shakes his head. “Sorry. Maybe I need to go back to school. Just. Have a good rest of your day. It was lovely meeting you.”

“You too,” you say warmly. “Thanks again.”

He disappears and you watch him go. You wonder what he was going to say- it sounded an awful lot like a question. But he’s gone now, and you’ll probably never see him again, so you try and let it go. By the time you get your class back to the school, it’s almost time for pickup. They’re all half asleep at their desks, absolutely worn out. Parents come by one by one to pick them up, and when Sammy’s dad shows up, you pull him aside and explain everything, the worst feeling in your stomach.

He laughs and shakes his head. “He does that to us all the time. We’ll be on a walk and he just- stops. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

Sammy wanders over as you’re still processing the fact that his dad isn’t mad. “Guess who I met?” He says, staring up at his dad with a wide grin.

“Who?” His dad asks.

“Os-car Pi-as-tri,” Sammy says.

“That’s actually true,” you chime in. “I have the pictures to prove it.”

His dad looks at you with wide eyes. “If you’d have led with that, I wouldn’t have even heard you when you said he got lost.”

Despite what Sammy’s dad said, you toss and turn all night. Thankfully, it’s a Friday, so you don’t have to teach the next day. Every time you close your eyes you think of seventeen tiny heads, and one missing, and you feel sick to your stomach again. When you finally do fall asleep, you dream of children disappearing and warm brown eyes paired with an Australian accent. You spend the weekend trying to get your mind off of all of it.

On Monday, Sammy’s mother brings him into the classroom earlier than normal. You’re still turning on the lights and straightening things when they come in. He’s holding a little bouquet of flowers, and your heart melts.

“Sammy wanted to apologize for getting lost,” his mother says. “We know you must’ve been very worried.”

You let out a breath. “Thank you, Sammy.”

He nods, and you take the flowers from him. Then he scurries away to the play area.

“It’s okay,” his mother says. “Peter said you were really beating yourself up over it.”

You shrug. “It’s my worst fear, you know? I hate school trips.”

She laughs. “You know, he really likes you. We were worried, with how quiet he is, that he’d hate school. But you make it fun for him. So thank you.”

You smile, unsure of what to say in response other than, “thank you.”

You turn to your desk to find a vase or a cup for the bouquet, and that’s when you see the other flowers. A mix of white peonies and white roses and greenery, with little orange flowers stuck between all of them. You stop in your tracks. Behind you, Sammy’s mother laughs.

“Got a secret admirer?”

You shake your head uncertainly. You’re not sure how anyone even got flowers into your classroom this early on a Monday. But there they are, sitting proud and pretty. There’s a note tucked into the stems with your name on it, and so you pull the little envelope out and open it.

Hi,

I hope you had a lovely time at the MTC. I really enjoyed meeting you. I’d love to take you out for dinner sometime. Hope this isn’t too forward,

Oscar

His number is written below. You let out a squeak. You can tell she wants to look over your shoulder or ask who it’s from, but she bites her tongue. Sammy’s your favorite student, and his parents are up there, too. But this feels like too much to share with a parent, so you shove the note in your pocket.

“Just a friend,” you lie.

“How sweet,” she says, nodding. “Well, I’d better be off. I’ll take Sammy out to the playground. We just wanted to stop in and chat.”

“Thank you,” you say, turning to her with a smile. “And sorry. Again.”

She gives you an amused smile. “It’s okay.”

You carry the note around in your pocket with you the whole day, unsure of what to do about it. Of course, all your students notice the flowers, and they tell all their friends at lunch, who then tell all their teachers. Suddenly everyone seems to need to borrow something from you, sticking their heads into your classroom and just then noticing the flowers. How pretty! Beautiful! Who are they from? You tell them all the same thing. A friend. It’s only when your favorite coworker, Maggie, comes into your classroom later that you finally tell someone.

The kids have all gone home for the day, and you’re cleaning up the last bits of paper from your class activity. She walks in and beelines for the bouquet on the desk.

“Okay, I have a theory,” she says.

“And what’s that?” You ask.

“Orange flowers,” she says. “Someone from your trip on Friday.”

“Papaya,” you correct softly.

“Huh?”

“They call it papaya, not orange,” you say. She gives you a look, one brow raised. “I know. I…”

You dig the envelope out of your pocket and throw it to her. She opens it and gasps, sinking down in your desk chair. She must reread it five times, letting out giddy noises.

“So when are you getting dinner?” She asks.

“I haven’t texted him yet,” you admit.

She stares at you with wide eyes. “He’s your favorite driver and he gave you his number and you didn’t text him?”

“That’s the thing though, Mags,” you say with a sigh. You lean against one of the desks. “He’s an F1 driver. I’m… me.”

“Yeah, and he liked you enough to send flowers to your classroom.”

“It’s not that, it’s…” you shrug. “Those guys date supermodels and actresses and pro athletes. I’m… a teacher.”

“Babe, if you don’t text him you’ll regret it,” she says. “Big time. Just give him a shot.”

You take your flowers home with you, placing them carefully in the passenger seat of your car. You set them on your kitchen counter. They oddly feel like they belong there, like that’s what the room has been missing, though you didn’t know it before. And as you sit there and eat dinner, you take out your phone and type in a new number.

…..

It takes a while for your schedules to line up, but when they finally do, you find that Oscar’s a fun person to go on a date with. Fun might be an understatement, actually. You’ve never had a better time on a date.

You’ve been texting since the day he sent you the flowers, back and forth trying to coordinate a date at first. And then it turned into little funny texts, photos of things throughout your days that made you both smile. You update him on your class, he tells you what chaos Lando’s been causing. He sends memes, and you send him ones back. By the time you actually see him in person again, it’s like you already know him.

You’d been worried that a date with someone like him was going to be a fancy restaurant that you would feel out of place at. But he suggests a little hole in the wall pub that he says is his favorite, and you eagerly agree. You meet him there in a casual outfit, jeans and a cute sweater. He’s dressed in jeans and a sweater too, his hair adorably messy. He has that same warm smile on his face.

The two of you sit and order, and any awkwardness you’d expected just isn’t there. It’s like you’re two old friends, already comfortable with each other. He jokes with you, and you match his dry humor step for step. He’s the only person you’ve ever been on a date with who doesn’t seem to bore of your stories about 5 year olds. His knee knocks against yours under the table, and you don’t pull away. You find yourself leaning closer, actually. You’re longing to reach across the table, to feel his skin against yours.

You look around later and realize it’s been quite a while since the two of you sat down. The restaurant is starting to empty out. Oscar seems to notice the same, and reluctantly asks for the bill, refusing when you try to pay for your own. You both stand up from the table and head for the door. You stop just outside, breathing in the cool night air.

He nods towards a nearby park. “Wanna take a walk?”

You definitely aren’t ready to say goodbye, so you agree. He sees you shiver slightly, and within seconds he drapes his jacket over your shoulders. It’s warm, like him, and it smells like him too. You smile bashfully up at him as you shove your arms through the sleeves. When your hand pops out, he wastes no time in linking your fingers together. You bite back a gasp.

His hand is warm against yours. It sends a shiver up your spine. You hold on tight to him and hope your palm isn’t sweaty.

He turns to look at you. “I had a really good time tonight.”

You smile. “Me too.”

“I was thinking, wondering I guess,” he says, “If you’d maybe want to do this again?”

You slow to a stop under a streetlight. He follows suit. You press your eyes shut.

“Oscar, I… I had a really good time. And I really like you,” you tell him. “But you’re world famous and I’m just me. I just don’t know…”

He squeezes your hand. “We can take it slow.”

You sigh and open your eyes to look at him. The fluorescent light shines off his fluffy hair and his cheekbones. He has a hopeful look in his eye that you’d hate to rid him of.

“You make me feel grounded,” he says. Your heart twists in your chest. “You have since that day at the MTC. You’ve just got this calming presence. And I think you’re funny, and pretty, and- yeah.”

“You think I’m pretty?” You tease.

He blushes. “Shut up.”

It’s scary, really, to think about. You want to try but he’s a bit intimidating, no matter how well you get along. And the attention that will come from dating him is even scarier. But you think of Sammy, hiding behind your legs, and how you’re trying to teach your students to be big and brave, and how you should try that, too.

You laugh and squeeze his hand. “I think you’re pretty too,” you admit, just to watch his cheeks grow redder. A sheepish smile crosses his lips, and he rolls his eyes playfully. “And kind, and funny. So yeah. We should do this again.”

“Cool,” Oscar says.

“Cool,” you agree.

Then he kisses you under the streetlamp, his hand still linked with yours. And yeah, you could get used to this.

…..

Two months later, when Sammy comes into class, he points an excited finger at you.

“I saw you on TV!” He squeaks.

You laugh. “Did you?”

He nods assertively. “My mum said I was probably wrong, but I know it was you. You were holding hands with Os-car Pi-as-tri.”

You laugh and put a finger to your lips. He takes the hint, but he laughs the whole way to his seat. You think it might be time to talk to Oscar about going public with your relationship. After all, if the five year olds are catching on, the adults will be soon, too.

When your students find out, they beg you to take them to a race. You think back to the McLaren field trip and decide you’re never, ever taking eighteen 5 year olds anywhere near a race track. That would be bad for everyone’s health. But when Sammy shows up as a grid kid at the next British Grand Prix, that’s all on Oscar. It’s definitely not because he’s your favorite student.

Okay, maybe it is.

a/n: my lovely 🐈❤️‍🩹 anon sent me a photo of Oscar with a grid kid & said: Oscar and Sammy. Please look at this photo I screamed over it. can imagine teacher!reader standing off to the side trying not to cry over how cute Oscar is tbh. anyways thanks for reading!!

taglist: @4-mula1 @celestialams @struggling-with-delia @lovekt @i-wish-this-was-me @forzalando @iloveyou3000morgan

#Oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri oneshot #oscar piastri fanfic #Oscar piastri fluff #formula one fluff #formula 1 fluff #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fanfic #formula one x reader #formual one oneshot #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #honeywrites #op81

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